Life in Perspective

After venting here yesterday, spending three hours alone at the Asylum with PG, stealthily watching Eddie Izzard and Minnie Driver on my computer and an hour of meditative prayer, I thought I was over my pissy mood by the time I left work yesterday.

I discovered I was wrong when I got to the bank and ran in to Anthony and his wife.

Ya'll may remember Anthony, I told ya'll about him back in November when he suffered a run of bad luck. Okay.. that's probably the understatement of the year.. but anyway.. I hadn't seen him since the accident and I was a little surprised to run into him.

I was about three people back in line behind them and could hear the conversation taking place between him and an old school buddy while his wife made the deposit for the dollar store. As his friend assured him that whenever he was ready to get back to work, he'd have a job waiting for him with his company, I felt the tears welling up.

"I can't do no mechanickin' anymore," he said as he held up what was left of his hand. "But if you got something I can do, I'd shore appreciate it."

The tears were beginning to seep from the corners of my eyes at about the same time Anthony looked up and noticed me. I'm not sure if he saw how hard I was trying not to lose my shit right up there in the bank, in front of God and everybody or not. I hope he didn't. "Hey girl! You doin' okay? Yer Mama n' them alright?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear.

I nodded, forced a smile and told him we were all doin' just fine.

Thankfully, the 184 year old man who was cashing in a trash bag full of rolled change at the next window was just finishing up. Anthony went back to talk to the bank manager, his step dad (I think, sometimes I get the family connections all mixed up. He's also my Uncle Mullet's dead wife's uncle... I think.. keep up if you can.)

I kept it together while I made my deposit. I tried not to think about how it would have been more, if the powers that be hadn't decided that office staff would no longer receive the piddly little $50 ($35 after taxes) bonus all employees used to get every month when product returns were kept below a certain level. Instead, I thought about how petty and childish I was to whine about anything at all while Anthony, his wife and two girls were trying to figure out how they were going to make it now that part of his body was gone.

Anthony was back by his wife's side as I left the bank. "Girl you take care now!" he said.

The tears began to flow as I walked across the road. It wasn't a dainty, girly cry either. No.. it was one of those full face, squished Playdoh lookin' cries, the kind that makes you say, "bless her heart, she ain't one of them that can cry purdy." I was bawlin', right there in the middle of town, crossin' the state highway. I got in my truck and drove around Frog Pond Holler, blubbering like a fool, trying to get get my shit together.

I still had to stop and buy dog food at the dollar store before I went home.

When I felt I could make another public appearance without becoming the main topic of discussion at the Sunday night services, I parked back behind the Pump n' Go and made a beeline for the dollar store. As I made my way past the mark down rack of Christmas shirts, I was damned near run over by... Anthony.

Oh the Universe was all up in my face yesterday.

"Well HEY! again!!" he said, smiling.

"Well HEY!" I said, trying to sound cheerful. I kept walking, back to the pet food, grabbing a bag of chow for the mutts and slinging it over my shoulder. I lingered around the cat toys for a bit, to give Anthony time to pay for his stuff and leave... because that's the kinda social retard I am.

I got to the register and dropped my big bag on the counter. The cashier was Lucille, Louise's sister, who also happens to work up at the Asylum, out on the plant floor.

"Well hay! Did you work up yonder today Miss Mahala?" she asked.

"Yep, just me and PG in the office " I answered. "It made for a long day."

"Well we're just going to be thankful we've had a chance to work at all," she said and I agreed.

When I left and got in my truck, the tears started welling up again, but I took a deep breath and asked myself just what the samhill my problem was. Anthony was the one missing a finger on one hand and most of the other hand, but he was smiling. He didn't look all hopeless and sad. Maybe it was the shock of running in to him, when no one's seen him in so long. Maybe it's the crush I had on him when I first went to work at the Asylum. He had long pretty hair, smiled all the time and always went out of his way to speak to me and call me by name at a time when I felt like the square peg, trying desperately to squeeze in to a round hole.

Maybe it's just that I need to suck it up and get the hell over myself.

I dunno.

I've got all my fingers and toes. The lights haven't been cut off. I'm not living in a car. I've got nothing to complain about. I need to keep reminding myself of that.

Ya'll have an ass kickin' helluva weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Erupting Emotions and Eddie Izzard

Okay ya'll. I know I've not been posting much this week and when I have it's been slim pickins.

Someone's mama always said, "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." I've been having a hard time finding something "nice." Today, I give up.

Get comfy and let the whine fest commence.

Here at the Asylum, Bossman is so full of doom and gloom, you can feel it settle over you like a dark ooze when you come in the door. He never speaks, only barks and if you can get a smile out of him, you can be sure he's probably just passing gas. While Thelma, Lulu and myself are working hard and actually getting along quite well, all the managers are stomping around like big babies because... Oh My Gah... they're losing some pay now too.

Ya know what? I feel for them.. but.. welcome to the party. The rest of us have been scrimping and saving for months now. Put on your big boy bloomers and shut the eff up. I'm sorry that the mention that WifeyPoo might have to get a part time job brings tears to your eyes... oh sweet Baby Jesus.. the horror you must be going through.

I'm sorry. I'm only returning the level of compassion I've been shown by them the past six months or so. You reap what you sow.

Next on my list.. Bubbles and Louise. Bubbles big azz, Cousin Fester lookin' bubbahubby has been runnin' his mouth all over town about what a sorry place the Asylum is since Miss Bubbaliciousness got laid off. He also made a point of sharing how he didn't think it was right that the ones who were left got to work 40 hours (if only for two weeks) in front of the Amazon.

Oh boo fricken hoo. He makes damned good money as a Paramedic and their house is paid for. They won't be doing without a flippen thing they need. This is the last year Precious the Younger will be home before starting kindergarten next fall. They should shut up and be thankful that Bubbles can sit her big butt at home and draw unemployment while spending this precious time with her kids. So maybe they won't get to haul their 80 foot camper to the beach this summer.

Cry me a river.

I've been told that the only reason he's so hell bent on Bubbles working, is because he doesn't like her out running the roads all damned day. Well, I reckon if everytime I left the house, I ran home and told bubbahubby that every Tom, Dick and Junior Joe Bob I saw was trying to hump my leg, I could expect he wouldn't want me out running the roads either.

As for Louise, Miss Nose-Up-Everyone-Elses-Ass has spent more time hanging around the office at the Asylum than she ever did when she worked here. She sits in town at lunch time, watching everyone's coming and going, then she makes a round of calls to everyone in the office (not me, she's learned) then sits her big butt down at the Grab N' Go (and go and go) the rest of the day, putting her own spin on everything she's heard and spreading it all over town.

This is no exaggeration. I can't even stop at the mutha freckin' dollar store to buy a pound of coffee with no less than four people stopping me and interrogating me before I get to the door.

I've had it up to my nose hairs with this crap and I'm fixin' to let everyone in ear shot know all about it.

You can add to the list that Ma is pissed off at me. It's nothing new.. it's just one. more. thing.

So there you have it. What's really going on in my life and in my head. Yesterday, I spent my lunch break up at the lookout with a cheeseburger from the campground store, watching the birds fly and the river flow because I just couldn't stand the thoughts of being in town one more second than I had to.

I feel like I'm going to snap.

Anywho.. Bossman is off today, he's playing golf all weekend with some of his buddies. Poor feller. This means, I'm unsupervised for the whole day. I've got about two hours worth of work to do, then I think I'll spend the afternoon watching episodes of "The Riches" on Hulu. Gypsies, Eddie Izzard and a giant wedgie in the butt crack of corporate America.. just what I need.

Ya'll have a good one. I'll be around here somewhere.

Later Taters!

Brain Flush

Today, my mind is like a swirling toilet full of mixed up junk that keeps going around and around, refusing to go down. Let's give it a good flush, shall we?

If Canada is under British rule, why are there so many French Canadians?

My crud is mostly better.

What kind of meat can I buy at the dollar store on the way home, cheap, that will go with potato cakes?

Bossman is in a pissy mood. For the untrained eye, it's a little tricky to tell, he's always such a ray of feckin' sunshine, but he's pissy. It's making me paranoid.

Should I get a passport? I don't have travel plans, I just feel like I should have one. Just in case.

Lately, when I've been face to face with people pissing and moaning over the news, I tell them I don't watch the news because I don't want to think about all the bullshit. Why do they then feel they need to tell me what was on the news?

And they whisper it, all wide eyed and looking around like it's some big, forbidden secret. I'm like.. Dude.. if it was on CNN, Fox and World News Tonight, everyone knows.

Is it five o'clock yet?

When I threaten to run away from home and live under the bridge down by the river, I'm only half joking.

Since I've stopped coloring my hair, should I let it grow long, wear it in a braid and go all "earth mother?" I mean, I've already got the body of a fertility goddess and I can rock the hell out of a tie dyed mumu.

Can you have acrylic hookerlicious pornstarrific french nails while strutting around the local Earth Fare in a tie dyed mumu? If I try, will someone call the hippy police on me? Are they like the phone police that tried to get Dr. Johnny Fever and Venus Flytrap up in Ohio back a few years ago?

Maybe I should rethink the whole earth mother thing.

They probably wouldn't approve of my big ass V8 Silverado down at the Earth Fare anyway.

I need to remember to call Aunt Moses to see if she knows where I can borrow a tiller. And someone to operate it.

Tomorrow is Hump Day. I'll try to come up with something better by then.

Later Taters!

Feeling Froggy, Watching Flakes and Taking it Slow

Snow is peppering down outside the kitchen window. While it seems the rest of the country is readying itself for spring, the holler is a winter wonderland. Maybe it's part of the slower lifestyle down here. We just took our time getting around to winter.

I've spent most of the weekend fighting the head crud. I'm still sorta wonky headed and I sound like I'm on deaths door, but the sore throat is almost gone. I just sound froggy, like a serial killer going through puberty. Squeaky to baritone in two seconds flat.

I know my readers of the male persuasion can hardly contain their excitement while reading that. Oooo I'm sexay sexay.

We won't even venture into the descriptive territory that is my current appearance.

In a way, I'm sort of glad I've had an excuse to stay doped up and sprawled on the couch, in varying states of consciousness all weekend. It's taken my mind off the disappointing news I got at work Friday. And while yes, 32 hours is better than no hours, they could have at least let me get one whole paycheck before yanking it away again.

I was just so relieved to have my full hours back, it was like a kick in the teeth to have them cut back again so soon.

But.. I'm over it now. All I can do is what I can do and try to stay positive in the meantime. I know ya'll will excuse me if, occasionally, I have to waller a little here and there. I am, after all, only human.

When I got off work Friday, I discovered the Amazon at work. If you'll recall, she was supposed to be going to Big City on Friday, but Ma's insistence that someone fix the floor, plans be damned, put a stop to it. It was going to be her last chance to go for a while, she was working all most of the day Saturday and all day Sunday, then she's going to be watching the station for the next week or two while her boss has knee surgery.

I was all in a wad because she was down to one pair of jeans. I may or may not have had a boo-hoo fit at work when I went for a walk around the building.

Well... come to find out, the Amazon got her days mixed up. She worked Friday evening and had all day Saturday to run interference while Mr. Fixit spent day two on the floor, then go shopping.

Everything worked out perfectly. Someday I'll learn to just go with the flow and trust that things have a way of falling in to place.

Someday.

Mr. Fixit will be back again in the morning to replace the molding strips he damaged. I hope to hell and high water Ma isn't paying him by the hour.

The Amazon picked up some more clay for me at Michaels. It was on sale for .99. I'm enjoying creating something with my hands again. I've missed doing beadwork, but the tiny seed beads I enjoyed working with so much became too difficult to handle with my jacked up finger joints.

The experience hasn't been without it's moments. The first batch of "faux leather" beads I made came out camouflage green and there are a few others who've been dubbed the "zombie eyeballs." The Amazon swears she's making earrings out of them. I think she's just trying to make me feel better.

Anywho, I'm going to go warm up a cup of coffee and watch it snow. And probably take another nap. Ma actually emerged from her cave to check on me this morning and offered to fix me something to eat.

She hasn't done that in years.

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

Later Taters!

Little Suzie Sunshine is Eclipsing

I came to work yesterday in a fairly good mood. I gave myself my daily "Don't let them bring you down," pep talk before I got here and I managed to smile and nod while listening to Lulu sing the "We're a shuttin' down!" song all. Fricken. Day. Long.

All the while telling myself, "I'm okay. I have everything I need. We're going to be fine."

Then, Bossman called me in to his office and spoke the words of fear, "Close the door."

Effective March 2nd, I'm back to 32 hours a week. Bossman is being furloughed a week in March and in the following months if the current trend continues.

In between Lulu's Chicken Little act and Bossman dropping the latest on me, I went home for lunch and was greeted by Ma, half dressed and her hair doing a cockadoodle-doo imitation, informing me that she'd hired someone to come fix the floor. When I asked her how she was going to pay for it, she said either Aunt Moses or herself would be selling their bodies.

She would not tell me who she hired or any other information. I got pissed off and came back to work.

I'm glad she's got plenty of money to just go off willy nilly and hire people to do whatever.

The Amazon needs new jeans. She has body parts hanging out of the ones she's got now and she's got to work all weekend. Now.. she's not going to be able to run to Big City to get some as planned, unless Mr. Floor Fixit is done in time today.

Leaving Ma alone with a man with power tools is dangerous business.

I'm quickly running out of Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy. My peptalks are wearing thin. The only thing keeping me going is singing this little ditty in my head when everyone else starts going on and on.. AND FRIGGEN ON.. about how AWFUL everything is:

It's Friday. Whatever.

Later Taters.

P.S. Oh yeah.. and I've got the crud.

And the Drama Continues

As Paul Harvey would say, "and now, the rest of the story:"

After I tried in vain to shake off Bubbles' vicious stink eye, I scurried back to my desk and waited until I heard Thelma in her office and called her.

"Whatcha reckon that's all about?" I asked.

"Ooohh.. they're both madder'n hornets. Ya know they been a'waitin' for their last check so they could go apply for unemployment. Wail.. they got 'em Friday and ya know how every time someone on salary leaves, they always think their last check will be a lot more than it is? Wail.. there ain't no tryin' to explain it to them two. Louise called me Friday night all a raisin' Cain. I reckon they mean to start somethin' over it."

I figure that must be why Bubbles was up here Friday. She probably came to whine to Tiny, her work hubby. I'd be willing to bet she called Bossman too and that's why he was trying to rush us out of here.

By the time I got off the phone with Thelma, it was lunch time. I grabbed my junk and headed up the hall towards the front, passing Tiny's office on the way. The door was shut, but I could hear that they had the Big Headed German on speaker phone and he sounded like he was getting right pissy with them over it.

When I got back to the office, they were still here.

Bubbles was in the foyer with her face buried in the corner, waiting for Louise and talking on her cell phone, pretending she didn't see me. Our foyer is like.. 6ft by 4ft. I am not a small woman. I'm pretty sure she noticed me coming in the door.

But anywho...

I heard Louise in Thelma's office chattering away. I may or may not have used checking the fax machine as an excuse to be nosey.

Thelma, who had recently moved to Louise's old desk, was now back at her desk and Louise was going through all the drawers where she used to sit. There was much slamming. I made a beeline back out of there.

I was half afraid that they were coming back to work.

Thankfully, I was wrong. I was glad I wasn't going to have to give back the good stapler that I'd hijacked off Bubbles' old desk.

I swear, I didn't think they'd EVER leave. But... within thirty minutes of their departure, the Shipping Ho reported that Louise had called her on her way out of the parking lot to tell her everything Tiny and the Big Headed German had said.

Apparently, they were told we had no plans of shutting down, but we would not be hiring anyone back to work for a long, long... loooong time. It was implied that if word got back up to the Asylum that any laid off employees were spreading rumors around town, their layoff status would be re-evaluated. And not in a good way. Louise also said that the Big Headed German informed them that he could guarantee that their pay was correct and there were three people waiting for him to leave for lunch.. kay thanks bye.. and then he hung up.

I may or may not have snorted a little upon hearing that bit.

Louise is fit to be tied. Thelma is confused. All Louise talked about for the past three months was how she wished they'd lay her off. Her prayers were answered. Now she's mad. Go figure.

Louise also reported to the Shipping Ho that both Thelma and I were snots and didn't even bother speaking to them when they were here.

Hello?

I got the hairy eyeball AND was ignored.. but I'm the snot?

Today, it's peaceful at the Asylum and I'm loving it. Bossman is entertaining a potential new sales rep, orders are trickling in and it's getting close to lunch time. It's all good.

Ya'll have an exceptional Hump Day. Hump it like horny toad on holiday.

Later Taters!

P.S. MysticFirefly asked if I had a character list to help her keep track of who's who here at the Asylum and around Frog Pond Holler. Unfortunately, I don't. I've thought about it a few times, but that's as far as I've gotten. So... in an attempt to help the newer readers get acquainted with the folks here, I'm offering up a few of my favorite posts featuring the residents of Frog Pond Holler.

Sex Education in Frog Pond Holler: featuring Bubbles and Louise and introducing the Dildo Phone

Bacterial Infection: Bubbles gets "the bacteria" and we all suffer

We'll Need to Move the White House: Thelma and Louise misplace the District of Columbia

As the Cubicle Turns

Let's saddle up that Drama Llama for the latest brouhaha at the Cubicle Asylum and around Frog Pond Holler.. shall we?

It all began last Friday when Bossman started trying to herd me out the door at 4:50. It was totally out of character for him. If he had wanted to sneak out 10 minutes early, it wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary but his insistence that I follow him out the side door for a stealthy escape seemed odd.

Until I got outside. And I spotted "the box." It was Bubbles' shiny white all terrain assault vehicle. I'm still not 100% sure if Bossman was trying to avoid her, but if I had to bet money...

Then? Yesterday morning, as I barrelled up the hill towards the Asylum, I spotted Louise with her trusty new sidekick, Thumper, sitting in her tiny little red car, behind the parked cars next to the new restaurant. It appeared as though they were trying to hide.

What the crap?

I'd been here for a couple of hours yesterday morning before I conjured up the nerve to ask Thelma if she knew what the sam hill they were doing down there. Little did I know that by mentioning Louise's name I'd hit a nerve, resulting in a gush of emotion from Thelma about how Louise was driving her insane, calling her constantly all weekend, telling her every little tidbit of what she'd heard around town.

Apparently Louise has been calling everyone here (except me) to tell them she heard we were shutting down in three weeks.

Louise likes to get everyone in a wad, then sit back and watch the mayhem she's created. I'm sure there's an official name for that particular flavor of psychosis.

Poor Thelma was all flustered. It's so difficult to just stay focused and do your job when others are trying to give their own insecurities a little boost by dragging everyone else down. She and I had a long discussion, a sort of mutual pep talk and we both felt better when we were done. I still didn't know why Louise and Thumper had the road staked out like Starsky and Hutch at 8 o'clock in the morning, Thelma and I figured they must have been just nosey, looking to see who showed up for work.

But then?

Right before lunch I walked up to the front office to check my mailbox and caught a glimpse of someone in Tiny's office. There sat Louise with a stern look of determination on her face and beside her, with arms crossed across her belly, red faced and giving me the "die bitch die" hairy eyeball sat... Bubbles.

You'll have to tune in tomorrow for the rest of the story. Duty calls and I can't keep Bossman waiting.

Hang in there.

Later Taters!

The Perils of Knitting

Last night, after the Amazon got home from work and had dinner (sloppy joes thankyouverymuch) she disappeared into her room at the end of the hall. Moments later she came limping back into the living room, mumbling something about a knitting related injury.

Apparently, she forgot about some knitting needles buried in a ball of yarn laying on her bed and managed to IMPALE HERSELF in the thigh. The graphic explanations of how she had to rip the spear from her flesh went on well into the night.

It only went in about a 1/4 inch. Triple antibiotic ointment and a bandaide seemed to take care of it and she had a tetanus shot before she started college.. so we're good.

When she expressed that maybe she should go to the clinic to have it looked at this morning, most mothers would have encouraged her to do so.

But me? I started relaying stories of all the alcohol related injuries I had in my teens that were way more gruesome yet healed just fine without the benefit of medical intervention.

Anywho.. I hope ya'lls week gets off to a better start than the Amazon's.

Later Taters!

You Know Times are Hard When:

• you come home from Wally World with the cheapest set of frying pans they had (3 for $16. Okay for eggs, but decidedly not sturdy enough for rodent killing.) and everyone in the house acts like it's Christmas. Ma even held up the tiny, omelet sized one and danced a jig in the kitchen this morning.
• you finally get to put 40 hours on your time card for the week, without using any of your hard earned vacation time and you feel compelled to write a tiny "yay!" beside the total.
• when you present your time card to your emotionless, smiley face challenged Bossman, he not only grins at seeing the tiny "yay!" he circles it then adds his initials and the date, making "yay!" official.
• you call the Big Headed German the day before payday to see if you're getting a whole paycheck, only to find that you're going to have to wait until the end of the month. I hate this twice a month bull crap. I never know which check they're going to deduct hours from.
• you feel guilty, giddy and a wee bit naughty when you spend part of the grocery money on polymer clay and supplies. Toys still make me happy. (I saved $18 by splitting my purchases between Michaels and A.C. Moore and using the %40 and %50 off coupons they had in last week's Sunday paper. I am still the coupon Ninja.)

It's going to get better soon. If you stop listening to the media and just take a second to look around.. you will see it too.

Ya'll have a good one!

Later Taters.

ABC News, Mountain Dew Addiction and WTF?

It's a cool, quiet morning here at the Asylum. Thelma is off, Bossman is coming in later and PG is home with the hackalicious chest crud. I can use a bit of quiet after the day I had yesterday. Thelma and Lulu damned near came to blows over scheduling, the phone rang off the hook and I had a customer ream me a new one when I told him his order wasn't shipping until today.

Dude thought he was going to intimidate me and tell me how I was going to conduct business. Obviously, this is the first time he's had to deal with me. Don't worry... he will learn.

(I may or may not have uttered the word "dickhead" after hanging up the phone with him.)

There was excitement in the holler yesterday afternoon. While Lulu was making her monthly visit to the Frog Pond Holler Public Library, she wandered in on the newly formed knitting circle. Of course, she knew everyone there, being the social butterfly that she is, causing everyone to stop and gossip for a minute or two. There were only four people in the group, but they all tried to encourage Lulu to get some yarn and join them.

Lulu isn't really what you'd call... crafty.

Anywho, it was soon realized that Lulu's distraction had caused everyone to lose count of their stitches and mayhem ensued. Lulu is now banned from the Thursday evening knitting circle.

Back at the trailer, the Amazon has been on some kinda My Little Pony eBay mission from hell. I wish I could explain further, but honestly, I'm still a little foggy on the details. I think it involves hair extensions, acrylic paint and floor polish.

If I ever figure out what the sam hill she's talking about, I'll let you know.

The Amazon was all in a wad yesterday over tonight's 20/20 special "A Hidden America, Children of the Mountains." We've been hearing about it for a couple of weeks now, supposedly a look in to the hidden hollers, frozen in time, a simpler way of life. They showed a small clip yesterday morning.

Instead of "a simpler way of life" it was a look at how mountain people have less teeth than the national average and it's all because they're addicted to Mountain Dew, which they reported was used as a "mild antidepressant."

Ya know... I mouthed off about the History Channel's cockamamey bullhockey, "Hillbilly, the Real Story," hosted by Billy Ray Cyrus, back last year and as a result, I was bombarded with emails from people from everywhere BUT the mountains of Appalachia, calling me names and questioning my intelligence. I was able to let most of it roll off my back until about a month ago when one of the friggen WRITERS who worked on the "documentary" emailed me, quoting the script to me.

None of them seemed to have actually paid attention to what I said, they all just had their bloomers in a wad because I said bad things about Billy Ray Cyrus.

Anyway, I finally decided it wasn't worth it and I did something I swore I'd never do. I deleted the post. It just wasn't worth the aggravation.

Now, Diane Sawyer, whom I've admired for years, decides to exploit small children with bad teeth. For me, it had the same cringe factor as any run of the mill, poor excuse for television reality show. Gathering up these poor mountain families and parading them in front of the cameras like side show freaks is just the latest example of what passes for entertainment in our country today.

I know I play on popular stereotypes when I write here and I try to do it in a truthful, humorous manner. When I think I may have crossed the line, I let a few choice holler residents read what I've written before posting to ask them if they would be offended by it.. just to play it safe. But I am not here to report the news. I am not here to comment on history. There is a difference.

There are people here with a faith stronger than you will ever witness anywhere else in the world.

I have seen women take a pile of worthless rags that some "city folk" have cast aside as trash and create the most incredibly beautiful quilts.. works of art to rival anything in a museum.

I have watched a man so old he can no longer sit up straight in his rocker take a piece of scrap from the firewood pile and, using the same knife he's carried in his overall pocket since he was a child, forming it into doll for his great grandbaby.

The music is rich and speaks to your soul through the language of banjos, guitars and washboards.

When you witness the cool morning mist hanging over the mountain peaks before the heat of a summer day takes hold, it brings a stirring deep in your chest, a knowing that there is a higher power, the confidence that nothing that beautiful could have happened by chance.

Our faces are carved from many gene pools with hints of Cherokee and Blackfoot, Melungeon and slave, English, Scottish and French and the gently subtleties of accent can be heard changing just by rounding the mountain.

But ABC prefers to focus on the unfortunate souls who don't have jobs, are poor and without insurance and... ultimately... teeth.

The Amazon says we should do our own documentary about REAL mountain people and their accomplishments.

We just might.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

I Want a Pony

I think I'm over my pity party.. for the most part anyway. I think my attempts at being the self appointed ray of sunshine around the Asylum just caught up with me. When you find yourself strolling amongst the fallout, smiling and telling everyone to "let go and let God" and that everything is going to be okay, then those nasty hormones kick in, sometimes you're just forced to say effit and lay down and waller in the muck along with everyone else.

The difference is... after a day or two of doing the dance of gloom and doom, I've decided that enough is enough, time to hike up my drawers and get back to the task at hand.

Moving on...

I've been horse obsessed for the past.. well.. 43 years.. but more so than usual for the past few days. I've been watching a lot of training shows on RFD TV (and bluegrass and Hee-Haw reruns.. no doubt adding to my hormonally charged depressed state) and daydreaming over the big draft horses at PMU Rescue. Over the weekend, I got to thinking about how I'm probably too old to keep thinking that "someday" I'll have a horse or three of my own, that I'm too old to be waiting for "someday."

When I waller in it.. I make sure it's good and deep

Then.. Sunday.. it was like the Universe heard me, because a call came over the scanner for an ambulance to head up on the mountain to pick up a 63 year old who fell off a horse. They said the patient was insistent that they were fine, but the people leading the trail ride wanted her checked out as a precaution

Sixty three.

I've got at least another 20 years I can dream.

If you've never heard of the PMU Rescue Organization and you love critters, you should check them out. PMU horses are obtained from farms where they were used for the production of the female hormone drug Premarin, which is made from the urine of pregnant mares. To produce the urine, mares spend their lives pregnant and having their urine collected in a manner which I'd just rather not go in to. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the result is a bunch of unwanted foals.. and.. well.. ya'll are smart.. I'm sure you know where they end up.

The good news is, demand for Premarin is on the decline, thanks to a new, synthetic version of the drug. The bad news is that alot of the family farms where the horses were used are going out of business. There are mares, the stallions used to produce the babies and lots of young horses looking for homes. Because larger horses produce more urine, most are big boned, draft crosses and for a girl like me, who's always dreamed of riding a ginormous, hairy footed beast bareback through the misty covered, rolling fields of the country side, they're like a dream come true.

If I can't have one (or two, or six) of my own, maybe I can spread the word and help them find a forever home.

Anywho... I'd better go sell some stuff. Thank GOD it's Hump Day.

Let's hump it like we're bareback, racing through the hills, the wind in our faces and excitement coursing through our veins.

Later Taters!

P.S. The horse pictured above is an actual PMU rescue looking for a home. She's 16.3 hands, mostly Shire, black and seven years old. You can read more about her here.

With Apologies to Elvis

Thank God it's Monday.

I know you're sitting there scratching your head wondering if I've lost my mind with that statement, but seriously? I was glad to get back to work this morning. I have had a bad case of Bitchy McCranky Pants this weekend and if I'd had to spend one more day wallerin' in Valentine's Day angst, the Poor Pitiful Mes or the My Life May as Well Be Over Because I'll Never Have Anything and I'll Always Be Alone Blues, I'm pretty sure I would have ended up staggering through the streets of town in a drunken stupor, claiming the first snaggle toothed hillbilly I could find as my own.

So yeah.. at least at the Asylum I have plenty to keep my mind occupied and I'm forced to display a minimum of socially acceptable public behavior.

In other news.. and by that I mean other than my ginormous pity party... the Amazon sent me a text while I was surfing etsy.com hard at work on Friday. It said, "I nearly died this morning."

Before I go on, I'd just like to interject here that it's NEVER a good idea to send your mother messages like that. No matter how old you are or how close to actual death you may have been.

So anyway.. I eventually found out that some dude driving a rental truck misjudged the height of the awning around the Pump N' Go, where the Amazon happened to be sitting there watching Spongebob and eating Poptarts hard at work. He managed to first get the truck wedged beneath the awning, then ripped it from the building, damn near popping the window out in the process.

Then? He left. A redneck posse of Silverados and F-150s gave chase, rounding him up and returning him to the station, where a discussion ensued, the scene displaying a stereotypical scattering of denim overalls, Carhart jackets and Skoal caps.

I wasn't there, but I'm pretty sure there was some spittin' in involved.

Anywho.. no one died, the station survived and the city boy driving the Budget Rent-a-Truck left with his own version of Deliverance to tell anyone who'll listen.

It's all good.

And now? I'm gonna go find a radio station to listen to. I love the Oldies Channel, but I just don't think I can handle one more performance of Elvis' "In the Ghetto."

Not today.

Ya'll have a kick ass week. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Just Call Me Spot

If it weren't for the fact that I snore like a big ol' bear dog, I could totally clunk my head down on my desk and nap for a good hour or so.

Well.. that and I'm the only peon working here at the Asylum today.. oh yeah and I'd probably get fired.

At least it's Friday. It's been a crazy week around the office this week. I've consolidated all of Bubbles' files with mine, re-organized some stuff, swapped out all the good office supplies she got from batting her eyes at Tiny for the crappy-duct-taped-together ones I had and I'm slowly scraping all the Pebbles and Bam-Bam stickers off the rolling order cart.

It's kinda like I'm symbolically boy-dog peeing on everything in the office, just to let everyone know I'm the Alpha Sales Ninja.. dog.. thingie.

That sounded way wittier in my head.

Anywho.. the holler is finally thawed out and it's supposed to be pleasant and warm this weekend. I'll probably just poke around the house , vacuum some things, wash a dog or two and try to fight the urge to lock Ma in the closet. If I can accomplish those few things, I'll be happy.

Ya'll have a good weekend. I'll be back soon to get us all caught up with the latest and greatest news in Frog Pond Holler.

Later Taters!

I Am Woman Hear Me Whimper

The holler is frozen ya'll. The whole damned thing. It's like Jack Frost upchucked a whole freakin' year's worth of butt clenching white coldness straight down in this one spot.

It finally stopped snowing around 7 o'clock tonight. It's so cold that my fancy shmancy digital thermometer just says "--." I think it gave up.

I made it half way up the hill to the asylum this morning, only sliding a few times, before I got stuck. Not off in a ditch somewhere or anything logical like that... no... I got stuck in the road. Right in the middle, at that spot on the hill where I was just coming in to view of the office windows.

Great.

Everytime I tried to move, the ass end of my truck scooted to the right.. then to the left. It went every which way but forward. If I scooted too far I was going to end up either in the creek to one side or the river on the other. Both were a long way down.

God forbid the company should spring for some guard rails to protect it's valuable employees.

So I stopped. I sat there with my foot on the brake, staring at the floor, contemplating the four wheel drive shifter thingie. You see.. I've had Jolene for over a year now but I've never used the four wheel drive. I was confident that I was going to move that .. thingie.. without performing some top secret procedure known only to tobacco chewing rednecks and as a result, cause my entire transmission to literally fall out from under me.

Welcome to my own special blend of irrational paranoia.

I did what any irrational, coffee deprived, city born girl, forced to live in hillbilly hell would do. I leaned over in my seat, my foot on the brake pedal, while perched on a snowy, ice covered road, mere feet from impending doom and began emptying my glove compartment. A can of berry scented Febreeze air freshener, some KFC napkins and a leftover cardboard pine tree on a string (it came with the truck) went flying through the cab while I searched for the manual.

Yeah.. that's right. I was going to sit in the middle of the road and read the owner's manual. I figured, I've been meaning to look that up, this was a good a time as any.

And I did. Because that's how I roll.

Once I was able to overcome my fear of breaking anything mechanical, reaching down and jerking the lever into 4wd, I was amazed at the ease with which Jolene began to move up the snow covered road and into our assigned parking spot.

I felt like I'd earned my hillbilly merit badge. I was relieved to find that no one was looking out the window while all this went down.

The high tomorrow is supposed to be 31°, then it's supposed to warm up to SIXTY on Friday. I can hardly wait.

Ya'll have a good one. It's almost Friday eve.

Later Taters!

Current Conditions in Frog Pond Holler

Pooh Bear, Fainting Ladies and Dancing to the Oldies

I'll bet ya'll thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth or something. Not to worry, I'm here with bells on my toes, ready for kickin' booty and takin' names.

Let's catch up on everything, kay?

First off, I'd like someone to explain to me why I thought it was a good idea to go grocery shopping, at Wal-Mart, on Super Bowl Sunday, before the game? Holy bovine Batman... there were entirely too many people up in that store... with children of the screaming variety on every aisle making sure their voices were heard.

By the time I got to the Cheerios, I was already fantasizing about beating people in the head with my ginormous Pooh Bear coupon binder.

One little old lady, obviously overwhelmed by the "falling prices" smiley faces, passed out on the bench by the cashier line. It was craziness.

We made it out alive though, thankfully, although I had my doubts there a time or two.

Here at the Asylum, I've been super busy and loving it. There's no popping gum, no crotch rot discussions and the dildo phone sits silently on Bubbles' old desk. I work away without interruption, listening to an oldies station while I shuffle papers and sweet talk French Canadians into buying our product.

It gets interesting ya'll. I don't speak French and they don't speak hillbilly.

Anywho...

We'll get catch up more later. For now.. I've got a meeting to grace with my smiling face. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Please Stand By

I'm currently up to my earlobes in files and in the process of consolidating all the sales.. junk.. into one office because, as Bossman put it earlier:

"There are no more territories. You rule the world."

So please excuse me while I prepare for world domination. I should have things back to normal tomorrow.

Later Taters!