I Don't Even Know.. Okay?

Lunch.
Also?
WTF?

It Ain't Shady Pines, But It'll Do

We've been under a freeze warning the past few mornings here in the holler. Hopefully it's the last real cold spell, I'd hate to be out cutting my grass in long johns and a parka.

Ma went to her noggin doc yesterday and apparently there's been a lot of discussion about nursing homes. I found out via text (with our schedules, it's either text or groggy 3 a.m. chit chat) that The Amazon is taking her to look at the less skeezy of the two homes here in Hee-Haw county tomorrow. Ma's noggin doc has her mom there so she seems to think it's A-OK.

I'm a little hurt that Ma is so gung ho to move to the home. I spent most of last night wringing my hands, snoozing off the affects of a nerve pill, blubbering like a fool and eating myself damned near sick... because that's what chubby girls do when they're stressed.

I'm not EVEN gonna log those calories on my fitness pal account.

Combined with hurt feelings and.. you know.. making it all about me... were fears about paying bills.. stressing out over whether or not the government is going to take the land (it's a Medicare/nursing home.. thing.. I'm not sure) and everything in the world I could possibly think of.

But today? Whatever. If that's where she wants to be, fine. I've done all I can do to please her. Whatever happens happens. I need to stop being so selfish, she'd be way better off somewhere where she doesn't have to be alone all the time anyway.

Anywho..

I'd better get back to work. I'm up to my hoo-ha in filing. Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Etsy TatteredMare

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Beef Knuckles and The Rub-A-Dub-Dub Man

Lawd have mercy. I have never been so thankful to see Friday get here.

Okay, so maybe I have.. like.. every Friday.. but you know what I mean.

We've been busy here at The Asylum, which is good. I'd rather be busy than sitting around with my thumb up my tushie trying to look like I'm needed. Bossholio is always happier when orders are coming in as well. It's like you can hear the little cash register "ka-ching!" playing in his head every morning when I hand him the sales report for the previous day.

He almost smiles.. sorta.. in his way.

My plans for the weekend include a little sewing, working on some jingly earrings and housework. With laundry. A metric butt load of laundry. I'm hoping I can get The Amazon to stop at the World O' Wally after work tomorrow to pick up a prescription for me and a USB card reader so I won't have to go out because Pupzilla ate the cable for my camera.

The brat dog has cost me a fortune in cables and ginormous beef knuckles. It's a good thing she's so damn cute.

Ma seems to have calmed down a bit for the time being. It comes and goes. Dr. Methuselah down at the Hee-Haw clinic treated her for a UTI when she told him she'd started talking to a man sleeping in her bathtub. Whether or not she actually had a UTI is beyond me, but either she's not seeing the rub-a-dub-dub man anymore or she's just not telling us.

My life. It's never boring.

And me? My funk seems to be lifting a bit. I've sorted out a way to get both a tiller and a lawn mower so that I can have that garden and I don't have to wait for Aunt Moses to take mercy on us and come mow our yard, so that's a load off. It'll mean more debt, but what the hell.

It used to bother me. Now I just pop a half a nervous pill and suddenly... it's no big deal.

Anywho...

I'd better get back to work before His Highness returns.

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

Later Taters!!

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Of Gardens and Signs from God

Spring is trying it's best to sneak it's way quietly into the holler. The temperatures range from damn near nipply at night, to nice and warm, bordering on boob sweat weather, during the day. I got up this morning and found the air conditioner running with the heat cutting on.

My body, it is confused.

Speaking of my fertility goddess-like body, it's shrinking ya'll. The Glucerna shakes, cottage cheese and broccoli are paying off. For the record, I'm about sick to death of broccoli. And cauliflower. I've resorted to nuking them with fat free cheese, but that just makes it all form a big wad that sticks to the back of my Melungeon shovel teeth.

Anywho...

I've been using Myfitnesspal.com (totally uncompensated endorsement, thankyouverymuch.) It's free and it does the math for you, keeping track of calories, fat grams, sugar.. whatever you want.

I had to take a break from the belly dance workouts, The Amazon was on days the past two weeks, but she goes back to nights next week, so I'll have "me time" to shimmy, pop and groan. It worked out well because my uterus has been in a state of unrest for the past week anyway. I probably would have dropped some reproductive organs had I attempted a belly roll.

Last weekend I put on my work boots and headed out to the someday-I-swear-to-God-it-will-be-a-garden, grabbed the tater fork and started beating hell out of the soil, trying to break up where crab grass has crept over the surface.

My back has been in a wad ever since.

I'm going to wait until next month and hopefully catch a good sale, then I'm taking my Lowe's card and buying an electric cultivator.. which is a fancy way of saying "tiller you gotta plug into an extension cord." I'm tired of pussy footin' around with this chit. Then? I'm going to buy seeds from this shop on etsy. You can't get 27 different kinds of veggie seeds for $22 from the World o' Wally. I'm sure I'll have way too many seeds for the space, but I'll find someone to take the leftovers. Or, just dig up little mini-gardens all over the yard.

The Amazon doesn't know she's gonna have to can all this chit after I pick it. It'll be our little secret, kay?

Remember when I said I wanted to buy a camper and move out in the yard? I'm dead serious and I spend an unhealthy number of hours each week looking at used campers for sale. Last night I found the perfect one just over in Johnson City:

And look:

PUPZILLA!! IT'S A SIGN!!!

Sorta. Maybe.

Anyhooter, I should probably like.. do some work and crap. Ya'll have an awesome weekend. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!


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Where's My Cheese?

It's sorta rainy and gloomy over Frog Pond Holler this morning. It would have felt great to stay in bed. I almost did, turning off my alarm and drifting back to sleep until 7:30, forcing me to do the mad rush to get here on time this morning.

Can't be late and take a chance at pissing off Mr. Sunshine Bloomers.

I've not felt motivated to write much lately, in case you were wondering. I've been in a funk, of sorts. My work funk, because I've caved and given up on the job search.

Ya'll just take a deep breath. I know that one's hard to swallow.

Here's the thing,  looking for a new job was an all consuming task. It was stressing me out, causing frustration and with Ma, trying to get my newly discovered ailments under control and ya know.. life in the holler..I just gave up.

I've done a lot of soul searching and come to the conclusion that I don't really want a new job. I don't really want a job at all. I want to buy a camper, stick it in the yard next to the trailer and use it as a shop where I can sew crap, moosh clay and be close by to look after Ma.

That is my goal in life... pathetic as it sounds.

I don't want to deal with Bossholios, PGs or Cranky McBitchypants customers. I don't want to be humiliated or embarrassed, to feel controlled or manipulated.

I'm tired of working for "the man" ya'll.

My funkafied mood hasn't been much better at home. It's a depressing place, with Ma moping around, banging her walker down the hallway at dinner time and the growing mess that's strewn from one end to the other. The whole house is a disaster. There is not one surface where there's not a pile of something.

And it smells.

I'm thinking about taking some time off just to clean house, which isn't fair because God knows I need a real vacation but I'm afraid it's the only way it's going to get done.

I guess what I'm trying to say is... AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH WHINE WHINE WHINE AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH.

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

Later Taters.




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The Force Was With Him

Lord ya'll. My dog scared the beejeebus out of me.

I got up at the butt crack of dawn Saturday morning to put Pupzilla outside. As I meandered down the hall, waddling carefully, I stepped in something wet.. and kinda gooey. I flipped the hall light on to find a puddle of bright red blood and some other unidentifiable matter in various spots along the carpet and between my toes.

Ew.

I went ahead and took Ayla out, then...  with a Nancy Drew inspired process of deduction.. figured out that it was Yoda who'd left the bloody mess in the hall. Yoda.. who now sat at my feet, wiggling his butt with puppy glee, looking up at me as if nothing was wrong.

By the time I made the decision to get Jessie up and make the 45 minute drive to Scary Hillbilly Town to the vet's office, Yoda had hurled his body weight in fluid and made a few more frightening, horrifying deposits in the backyard.

I thought for sure he was dying. I was askeered.

We ended up seeing the 15 yr old vet youngest vet, the uber professional one who likes to explain everything. He didn't seem very alarmed as he explained the infection Yoda had picked up God-Knows-Where, comparing the good vs bad bacteria that resides in the gut to a Star Wars scenario. I wondered why he was talking to us like a couple of dork taters, we're not geeky people, we're not those people.. not us.

Then I looked over at The Amazon, with her Wonder Woman t-shirt, her Marvel Comics superheros bag, containing her Hello Kitty wallet... holding YODA for gawdsake and I realized..

HOLEH CRAP!! We ARE those people.

Turns out Yoda just had a flaming intestinal infection. Over $200 and four prescriptions later, he's feeling finer than frog hair, split three ways.

I, on the other hand, am freshly broke and have a handful of new gray hairs.

Hope ya'll are having a good one. I'm flying solo at The Asylum today, so I'd better get back at it.

Ya'll take care. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

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