Mahala the Wally World Warrior

I have been to Wally World on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. I have been to the other side. I have witnessed the darkness.

All the turkeys they had left were apparently from some third world country or had been on Jenny Craig. I had to dig all the way down into the bottom of the endless pit of frozen fowl carnage freezer case, tossing Butterballs out of my way, trying to get to the one pudgy looking gobbler I could see, just out of my reach.

I thought the Amazon was going to have to pull me back out by the ankles.

Trying to find the canned, jelled cranberry sauce was like the quest for the Holy Grail. I am persnickety about my cranberry sauce. It must:

• Be Ocean Spray
• Be can shaped
• Not contain any of that whole berry nonsense
• Be refrigerated to a solid, wiggly mass before being served on a plate, uncut, still containing it's original, ridged can shape

If these criteria have not been met, then just cancel Thanksgiving. It's not worth it.

I always have a hard time finding it. It's never on an endcap somewhere, for easy access. I have to search high and low and more than once, I've gotten so excited to find it that I've accidentally picked up a can of that whole berry crap and nearly ruined everything.

Luckily, I was able to hunt it down.

The spice section was picked clean. I had to get down on my knees and reach way back into the corner for the last tiny jar of poultry seasoning, while a kindred spirit squatted beside me, squinting under the shelving with her reading glasses balanced on her nose. She teetered a little in that position and commented that she was getting too old for all these acrobatics. If she'd gone down, she would have taken me with her.

It would not have been a pretty sight, an entanglement of stretchy pants, sneakers and middle aged body parts.

The menu for Thursday will be the still-sorta-skimpy bird, mashed taters, gravy (maybe, if I don't screw it up,) a few deviled eggs, green beans, rolls, sweet taters (cooked in the slow cooker with applesauce, brown sugar and butter,) fruit salad (a can of fruit cocktail with some mayo mixed in. It sounds nasty, but it's better n' snuff. Take my word for it) stuffing and a frozen, deep dish, coconut cream pie (don't judge me.) I'm sure it'll be more than enough for the three of us, for the next week, especially if Ma's still pouting and refuses to eat.

She's on another one of her crazy kicks where she swears I'm making plans to leave or put her in a home. I just walk away when she starts, because I don't know what else to do.

Anywho, tomorrow afternoon we'll all fix ourselves a plate and sit in the living room and briefly state what we're thankful for before diving in.

I'm thankful I have a job, on most days. I'm thankful I have a roof over my head and a vehicle to drive. There was a time when I had neither and I'm thankful for that experience as well. It humbled me and helped me become who I am. I'm thankful for the Amazon, who's changed my life in so many ways and for the critters who'll be around our feet, begging for their share of the food. And I know this sounds cheesy but it's true.. I'm thankful for all of you who share the stories of your lives with me and have hung around as I've tried to make you laugh, whined to you all and tried to find myself again.

May all your lives be blessed.

Now, I'm going to get to work, before I have to be thankful for an unemployment check. Ya'll have a happy Turkey Day.. and today, don't forget to hump it.

Later Taters!

Graveyard Stomping, Car Shopping and not THE Edge

The wind is howling through the valleys and between the mountan peeks this morning in Frog Pond Holler. The air is starting to get that little bite that signals the end to warmer days.

I am so ready.

This weekend thoroughly kicked by bootay. I was off Friday, part of the "Mahala has to use up her vacation hours because she's not giving this company one more damned thing" project. It was spent hauling trash, old tarps, washing machine packaging and plastic bottles to the dump and recycle bins. I also worked diligently to get the kitchen cleaned up, but you can't tell it today.

Friday night the Amazon went to Big City with her friends to celebrate Maddie's birthday. She took with her a Carebears cake she made herself, from a Wiltons teddy bear pan. It came out pretty good.. other than the leg falling off on the way to Maddie's house. After cake and pressie's they headed to Big City to see "New Moon," but called me before even getting out of the holler to report that it seemed one of the wheels was fixin' to fall right off Maddie's car and could they borrow the truck.

Whyyy suuure. It wasn't like I had a hot date or anything.

So they all piled in Jolene and headed to Big City to the fancy new theater on the other side of town with the built in bar to watch the latest vampire flick.

When she got back home, in the wee wee hours, she busted into the living room like a bat out of hell, all excited and saying, "EDGE was totally sitting RIGHT behind us!!!!!"

*blink*

I wanted to share in her excitement, but I didn't have a clue what she was going on about. This "Edge" must be a big shot because she looked like her eyeballs were gonna shoot right out of their sockets and explode, showering the room in tiny rockets of glitter.

So I'm thinking.. that sounds like it could be a DJ or something... then it dawned on me.. The Edge.. sounded familiar. Wait...

Isn't he in U2??  That's when I started to get all sortsa excited too and T.A. was all like, "I KNOW, right????" But what would U2 be doing in Big City? Luckily, just as I was about to ask if Bono was there, she said, "Revis was all like.. "that's not him".. and Maddie was all "the hell it ain't" and then Rickie was all, "check his tatts" and then we took this stealth picture with my cellphone and you can TOTALLY SEE that it's HIM."

I looked at the picture. I didn't have a mutha freakin' clue who we were all in a wad over.

Turns out it's some wrestler dude.. or for ya'll of the southern persuasion "rassler."

Saturday we headed out to Big City again to look at a truck T.A. had seen on the innerwebs. Of course we got there and it had been sold the day before, but she spotted a shiny, red, chromed out Silverado close to her price range and fell in love. The very nice, very non-used car salesman-like gentleman is working on trying to get her financing today.

Keep your fingers crossed.

After making a pit stop at Wally World I got a wild hair up my butt and decided to take T.A. up to the cemetary where Mamaw was buried. She was away at college when she died and we'd talked about it some, so I figured it was as good a time as any. Once I figured out which winding mountain road to take to get there, we didn't have much trouble finding the cemetary. The actual gravesite was another story, but after hiking the hillside in flip flops and damned near killing myself more than once, we finally found the headstone marking Mamaw and Papaw's graves.

As we looked at the marker, I commented to T.A., "I didn't realize how close Papaw's birthday was to yours."

"Yeah, that's kinda cool," she answered.

"Um.. what's today's date?" I asked as I pointed to the carved letters and numbers.

"November 21st." she answered.

"Nooo that's not creepy AT ALL," I said, as I noted that we were standing there on the aniversary of Papaw's death.

Papaw died when I was in like.. the 2nd or 3rd grade.

Anywho..

Most of yesterday was spent trying to recover from the previous day's romp and catching up on some laundry. I think I sort of over did it, I had the achey breaky joints and muscles all day. I tossed some laundry in the new washer,  thinking of how lucky I was that I didn't have to worry about stirring everything up with a stick and how much cleaner everything seemed, then went to my room and stretched out on the bed as I watched the end of the horror movie I'd been missed earlier.

I snoozed for about an hour, feeling like a new person when I woke up. I stretched and walked back to the living room where I found T.A., sprawled out on the couch. She looked up at me and said, "The bathtub went boom."

"Wha?"

"The bathtub.. it went boom, filled up with gunk when the washer drained."

Didn't we just go through this back in the spring?  It's like.. our pipes are haunted. I think I'm going to go to Big City on my day off and head down to the strange part of town and see if I can find some kinda pipe gunk clearing spell I can say over my toilet. Lord knows we've tried everything else.

If you hear of some crazy lady in a small town in NC being commited after she was found passed out naked in the floor of her bathroom gripping unidentifiable herbs, hauntingly eery chanting coming from the cd player and a strong aroma, a mixture of incense and Drano, forming a dark cloud, hovering over her barely conscious body... it's probably me.

Let's kick this Monday in the bootay before it kicks us. Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Uneasy Calm, Extra Stress and Reverse Psychology

It's dark and gloomy in Frog Pond Holler this morning. The rain is barely falling, a smidge more than a mist, just enough to make you turn your wipers on for the drive in and bright orange-brown oak leaves are blowing over the surface of the road, like a herd of skittish cattle, not sure of which way to go.

The natives are settling in for the winter here, loads of freshely split wood making their way up tiny dirt roads to hidden hollers where life is suspended in time.

It makes me thankful to have "real" heat, I don't miss hauling wood in through snow storms or trying to keep a fire going all night, but at the same time, I'm a little sad that those hidden hollers are slowly fading away.

I guess you can't have it both ways.

Here at the Asylum, Bossman has returned and he seems.. different. He's so calm, it's almost scary. It's not just me he's adjusted his attitude with, it's everyone in the office. It's sorta creepy.

Yesterday was noggin doc day, but I got stuck in traffic behind an accident in Big City and ended up 30 minuites late. When all was said and done, I ended up driving 2 hours to spend 30 minutes talking, then turn around and drive an hour back home.

This is supposed to be helping me reduce stress? I think not.

Anywho..

The other day Ma came into the kitchen with that "I'm fixin' to start some crazy talk so I can watch you freak out with frustration" look on her face, sat at the table and began.

"Who told you about you getting all the money from your Daddy's part of the sale of your Mamaw's house when he dies?" she asked.

"Umm.. I dunno.. who told YOU? It's the first I've heard of it."

"Well who have you been talking to about his estate when he dies?" she continued. She's like a pittbull when she's digging for information. She will not. Let. Go.

"I haven't been talking to anyone.. and even if I had been, I don't want that sonofabitch's money and if you don't shut up talking about him all the time, you're gonna start paying for my therapy AND my medication, got it?" I was proud of myself, I was calm, I didn't freak out but I managed to tell her what I thought. This is an accomplishment.

But she continued.. and it's crap like this that has me in therapy to begin with, "Well, when he does die and you get all that money (he doesn't have a pot to piss in, I dunno where she thinks all this money is coming from ) if you don't want it,  you can let me have it, I'll take it."

"Fine," I said, "when I get "all that money" I'll sign it right over to you, kay?"

I relayed this story to the noggin doc yesterday, expecting her to say her ususal, "Well good for you!" or "Why do you think she keeps trying to upset you?" .... but no. The tiny, soft spoken noggin doc came up off her chair and said, "Oh no you will not, if there's any money you WILL take it. I'LL MAKE YOU."

The noggin doc gets a little excitable sometimes. I'm gonna need to not be the calm one during my therapy sessions.

I hope ya'll have a humpalicious Hump Day. I'm gonna go tackle the disorderly monstrosity that is my desk. It looks like a paper recycling bin took a big, steaming crap right in the middle.

Hump it like you mean it!

Later Taters!

Hurling Monkeys and Lesbian Pigs

Have you ever had such a busy weekend that you were thankful to get back to work on Monday morning, just so you could sit down?

And considering where I work, that's saying alot.

The Amazon took the truck to Big City Friday night, then again Saturday morning for job #2. I figured, since I was stuck at home I'd try to get some stuff done. The dog lot needs to be moved down and over a bit so that the oil man can come fill the tank. I figured, although it's 30' x 10', I should be able to move it a little at a time.

Once I got out there, I realized I had a small problem. A tree, about 16 inches in diameter, had sprouted in front of the first panel and it was going to have to come down before I could move anything. It took a phone call to the Amazon at work and listening to Ma bicker for ten minutes about "I hope you don't think you're planning to get another dog," but I finally found the saw. It's a carpenters saw, not ideal for taking down small trees, but it's all I had so I gave it a shot. I ended up cutting about a fourth of the way through before I finally just bent the damn thing over and stomped it until it broke.

I'm almost as handy out in the yard as I am in the house.

I eventually gave up on the dog lot.. and it pains me to admit this, but as I sat here typing it dawned on me that all I had to do was remove the front panel to bypass the tree.

*insert eyeroll here*

Any. Who.

Sunday morning the Amazon came home from work early after hurling monkeys down at the Pump n' Go. That was around 1 p.m. She was still screaming at John at 2 this morning. When I got up to get ready for work, she was propped up on the couch, looking like death warmed over, wrapped up in one of the quilts Mamaw made with both dogs piled on top of her, refusing to move.

I don't know what she's got, but I'd better not get it.

Sometime last night, as her fever climbed to 102°, she started telling me about her friend's grampa going out to the pasture to see his women. I was all like.. saywuthuh? She finally clarified that his "women" were his cows. She then went on to tell me about the pigs up the road from them.

Amazon: "Her granny said they's lesbians."

Me: "The pigs are lesbians?"

Amazon: "Yeah, right up the road, you can hear them. This one night, Shelly (her friend's mom) made everyone load up in the car to go ride by there and spy on them."

Me: "The lesbian pigs?"

The Amazon looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "The pigs aren't lesbians, they belong to lesbians." The really scary part about this whole conversation is that it made more sense to me that they were spying on lesbian pigs than their owners.

Me: "So Shelly wanted to go spy on the lesbian neighbors?"

Amazon: "Yes"

Me: "At night?"

Amazon: "Yes"

Me: "Well.. what did she expect to find? Did she think they'd be doing some kinda half naked, ritualistic dance in the moonlight?"

Amazon: "I dunno, prolly."

Me: "I mean.. seriously.. did she think they'd be like.. golfing out in the yard.. or woodworking.."

Amazon: "SHE'S JUST NOSEY OKAY?"
Then she took a sip of Gatorade, jumped up and ran to go puke some  more.

Oh.. I did manage to fix the couch.. again. I heard a spring pop last night, but the rest are holding steady. The Amazon says I made it uncomfortable and Ma says I didn't learn a thing from the washing machine and that I need to learn when to throw in the towel and go buy a new one.

I get such support from my family.

Ah well, Bossman hath returneth from his week in exile. I'd better go pretend to give a rat's patootie.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Puppies, Kettles and My Ding-A-Ling

If you come by the trailer in the next few days, chances are you'll hear the sound of the new washer running. We've been washing everything, there were piles of stuff stuck everywhere that was too big for the old  washer or that we knew wouldn't come clean.

It's sorta sad honestly. It reminds me of that old Ma and Pa Kettle movie where they get moved from their hillbilly home into a new fangled, high fallootin' house when Pa writes a winning tobacco jingle for a contest.

We shouldn't be this excited with a new washing machine.

Ma had a doctor's appointment in Big City yesterday. She told me was going to go have blood drawn from her neck to have something or another checked to explain why she falls then can't get up. It didn't sound right to me, then she came home yesterday without any new holes.

She doesn't allow me to take her, she will only let Aunt Moses take her to the doctor.

After giving her a Perry Mason-esque interrogation some gentle prodding I discovered she'd only been consulted and poked around on by a few different vascular specialists. I'm not sure how much Medicaide is being charged for all of this, but she falls because she's laid in the bed for so long that her legs have no muscle tone, then she can't get up because her ankles and knees are bad.. because she has arthritis and she's laid in the bed for so long that.. SHE HAS NO MUSCLE TONE.

Sorry. I get annoyed.

Anyfreakinwho....

I came |this close| to getting a Great Pyrenese from the local shelter recently. He'd been adopted out, then returned because he was too hyper around the new lambs. By the time I called, he's already been reserved for a GP rescue organization. I told the Amazon that I wasn't going to be satisfied until I had a big'un to run around the backyard to keep the critters run off, the hikers at bay and make me feel more secure. There are so many animals being taken to shelters who have been surrendered because their families have lost their jobs or had to relocate and just couldn't take care of them anymore and it breaks my heart.

I'm back to working full time, we're getting busier every day. I'm even pulling some overtime this week. I can feed one more. Oh and now that Sammy's on the 'roids, he needs someone to wrestle besides me and Yoda. I'm getting too old to lay in the floor for him to pounce and quite frankly, Yoda is getting sick of it. So I check the local shelter website often, looking for the next big, slobbertastic furbaby who needs a home.

I'll let ya'll know when that happens.

The Amazon has built her savings back up and has spotted a truck she wants to go check out. She starts her part time professional Ding-a-Ling job for the Salvation Army this weekend. The girl is going to be rolling in money. 

Dare I utter the words?

*knocks on wood*

Things are looking up around the holler.

I'd better get my butt in gear now, Monday and Bossman's return are drawing near. Ya'll have a good one.. oh and? If you're on Google Wave, you can find me at hiddenmahala@googlewave.com.

Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

My Talents Are Endless

The little metal doohickey where the deadbolt goes on the front door is bent all to hell. The kitchen floor smells like the stagnant, green sludge that coats the Dismal Swamp back home in Virginia. Ma is pouting.  I had to go buy plyers. Our front porch is piled full with an old washer, a metal ramp and cardboard. I only threatened to kill the Amazon about three times.

But we did it. We got the new washer installed. The hot water is cold and the cold water is hot, because by the time I realized it, my ass was whipped up one side and down the other and I figured it could wait to be fixed, but the washer is functional. And? It aggitates. No broom handle required.

Me and the Amazon are even considering using the new Lowe's card to buy some new flooring for the living room after we pay this off. We may even install it ourselves.

We're starting to feel kind froggy down in the holler.

So how long do I leave the old washer sitting on the front porch of my trailer before I get my official Hillbilly merrit badge?

Just curious.

I'm the Sales Ninja this week, so I gotta like.. actually work and stuff. Ya'll take care, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Coffee Might Help

Fall and I are having a love/hate relationship. While I'm thrilled that under-boob-sweat weather is over for a while, my nose is trying to out do Mother Nature, spewing forth all the colors of the rainbow.

Can't we all just get along?

Between the allergy medications and the noggin doc suggesting I temporarily increase my "batshit crazy" drugs (after my little erm.. outburst at Bossman, even though she thought he deserved it) I pretty much go into lala dreamland everytime I sit still for more than five minutes. Sleep is good. Sudden coma-like unconsciousness is not.

Remember the broken washer I've been battling for like.. ever? I tried using Locktite to stick the aggitator back on the shaft.. and it worked for one load before it broke loose again. We've had the stupid thing for 14 years, since buying it used from some guy up on the mountain who buys old ones and rebuilds them. I have no idea how old it is, but buying a replacement part was out of the question. For the past few months, I've been using a broom handle to get everything stirred up good and we've accumulated a pile of bedspreads, etc. that were just too big to tackle by hand.

I finally couldn't stand it anymore and my tightwad arse applied for a Lowe's card, got $400 credit and bought myself a washer. It's an off brand I'd never heard of, but it's the same brand Thelma has and she swears by it. I picked it up last night, it's still on the back of the truck. I'm trying to work up the energy to go waller it up on the porch.. then waller the old one out.. then the old one in.

Or I might just ride around with it on the back of the truck.

I'm looking forward to the next week without Bossman. I can't wait to see if he'll have a new attitude when he gets back next week.

Anywho.. time to start appliance wallerin'. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Of Ogres, Big Headed Germans and IT People

The sun is shining bright down on Frog Pond Holler today. There's a nip in the air, a fall wind is blowing the leaves around, swirling colors of gold, red and subtle wisps of orange. I love this time of year.

Here at the Asylum, we survived inventory without any lives being lost or serious injuries. Doing inventory meant we had a lot of extra people here from the other plant, including the Big Headed German, my first boss here. I told him about Bossman (aka "the ogre") and how I lost my mind and handed him his ass on a platter a couple of weeks ago. The Big Headed German reminded me that he used to have some anger issues of his own and how I used to tell him he needed STFU and get back in his office until he learned to be human again. He wanted to know why I'd let Bossman get away with this for so long without standing up for myself... he said,"You've lost your spunk. I miss it. You need to find it and use it to smack that mother f*cker back to Indiana."

I'm thinking that might have been the kick in the pants I've been needing. Lord help Bossman when he gets back from his corporate meeting today.

The semi-new I.T. guy was here all day also. He's probably in his late fifties, appears to have some osteoperosis issues, three inch thick glasses and ... this is no joke.. the greasiest looking head of hair I've ever seen on an adult human being. He bitched because our computers, to him, were inadequate. He didn't like where we had the big data printer. He complained about the positioning of the employee bathrooms and to beat all, he walked around for most of the day with a stringy snot boogie swinging gently from his left nostril.

And yes, the Big Headed German and myself, both in our forties, sat in my office and made fun of his full frontal mucus like a couple of 6 year olds in the lunch room. We giggled and snorted and joked when we should have been working.. and it felt great. I kinda miss working for BHG. He keeps telling me that when Henny Penny retires, he's offering me her position and to be prepared.

Around town, things have been pretty quiet. No little children were eaten during the Halloween celebration on the campground, but there were plenty of soggy, tiny princesses and mini-me Batmen when a big ol' gullywasher hit somewhere around dusk. The Amazon ended up down at the bar with some friends, drooling over a local band that plays there whenever there's a gathering in town.

Bless her heart. I guess in some ways she is just like her mama. And that's not really a bad thing.

Anywho.. The Ogre has returned from Ohio with his aura of perpetual pissedoffedness. I'd better go look busy. Ya'll take care.

Later Taters!