It Ain't All Daisy Dukes and Fried Chicken

My weekend:

• Took Pupzilla and The Boston Baked Beagle for a walk together. I'm pretty sure I won't try that again any time soon. Sammy was so happy to be outside and away from the house (it was finally warm enough and he'd re-grown enough hair) that he lost his damned fool mind. Plus, I didn't know that the field down from the house was a favorite grazing spot for deer coming down off the mountain on their way to the creek. Have you ever seen a half a Beagle when he gets wind of a deer? How about a half a Beagle with the Boston Terrier crazy? I nearly died ya'll. Forty pounds of mixed up mutt almost drug my ass all the way to the next county.
• I decided I'd try washing some clothes at home, everything seems to be flowing nicely since all the sewage is bubbling up through that hole into the front yard. I put the washer on the small load setting and washed a little at a time. It seemed to go okay. If you come by, just try not to inhale as you're walking from the truck to the porch.
• I made an extra run to CVS yesterday after the paper came out. I needed fabric softener and between their sale and my coupons, there was a deal to be had. I'm now set for laundry products for a while. If I could find a product that folds them and puts them away, I'd be in business.
• I took naps. Don't judge me.
• I changed some stuff around in my room, which I've decided will never be clean again because I can't make my mind up where to put stuff. In the meantime, Ayla has redecorated the floor space, shredding an entire box of tissues, eating a tube of Vick's Vapor cream (it won't hurt her, the hillfolk here eat it for sore throats all the time. She'll just be farting menthol for a few days,) and gnawing three inches off the log I let her keep, that she'd stolen from the fireplace hearth.
• I cleaned out the truck. Vern (or Laverne, we're not really sure) the porch kitty, helped by lounging in the sunlight on my seats everywhere I tried to clean. I'm not going to tell you how much trash I got out of there. I will tell you that the beating of the mats created such a dust storm that the Cherokee neighbors up the road thought I was trying to send smoke signals. (Okay.. the Cherokee didn't use smoke signals.. lest ya'll think I'm providing you with false information. I learned this from the geeky tour they take the white people on down on the rez. Smoke signals would have been pointless because of the poofs of mist created by the "smokey" mountains. There. You've learned something. And you're welcome.)
• Listened to The Amazon talk about plans to visit the new IHOP more than any person should have to.

I know, my weekends in Frog Pond Holler are so fun filled and exciting, you're packing your bags right now to come for a visit. Just let me know ahead of time so I can slap some Miss Clairol on my head.

Let's take this Monday by the butt hairs and jerk it around some.

We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

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