Mahala's State of the Holler Address

I have a feeling this is going to turn into a huge, babbling mess, but that's never stopped me before.. so here goes.

My recent absence from the blogosphere, Twitter, Facebook, etc has been due to an array of life's little complications, the main two being a sudden avalanche of work at the Asylum and the destruction of my netbook charger by Pupzilla.

Seriously, when do they outgrow the need to gnaw every remote, charger and battery in the house?

I ordered a new one online and it came Friday. Hoo-ray.

Speaking of the Asylum, PG will be retiring at the end of the month. He was the purchasing manager since way before I got there and had recently taken over as the plant superintendent. It didn't take him long to figure out that it just wasn't worth driving all the way from Sevierville (the land O' Dolly) to load trucks and get bitched at, so he's cruising along on his wife's insurance and leading the life of leisure, looking forward to a future career as a Wally World greeter. He's also a pervert and likes to talk to Lulu's boobs, so no one's really heartbroken over his leaving.

The rumor was that the Cutie Patootie would be taking his place, news which tickled the flippen chit out of me and Lulu. The Cutie Patootie is our age, fun to work with and he smells REALLY nice, all important qualities to have when being considered for a management position. At least where me and Lulu are concerned. We were giddy with the prospect of having the Cutie Patootie back at the Asylum with us, but alas, it wasn't to be. Instead, PG will be replaced by someone that is sure to rattle a few cages. The official announcement was made earlier this week. Bossholio, Jasper and a few other select knuckledraggers will now be answering to...

A WOMAN.

I'M SO EXCITED!! I MAY TINKLE MY GRANNY PANTIES!!

Seriously. This is going to be SO DAMN AWESOME.

I've never met the new plant super, but I've heard she's a no-shit-taking kinda gal.

Meanwhile, back at the trailer...

Since I checked in last, I've spent one whole night at the E.R. with Ma. After it became painfully obvious that the Hee-Haw clinic's efforts to refer her to a mental health specialist were half-assed and getting us no where, I loaded her up in The Amazon's truck and hauled her to the hospital, with the intention of giving her a short vacay at the nut hut which would hopefully result in some extended care options. We were there for about 12 hours. She was evaluated, questioned, x-rayed and examined. We spent about an hour with a psychiatrist around 4 a.m. when we were told the nut hut had a waiting list and I really just needed to take her back home and call doctors myself instead of waiting for the clinic to refer her. I swear to you, he actually said it was "crazy" for me to expect them to handle it.

BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY EVERYTHING IS MY F(&&%#@$ FAULT.

And for the record, while we were there, the woman who had been searching the house for "the baby" for two days, insisted that there was a house full of people partying there the night before and who's been meeting Romeo in the middle of the night when he sneaks in the house regularly, was suddenly completely sane.

It was then that I decided, I just don't care anymore. She can walk around and either be or play crazy all she wants. The next time she goes out in the middle of the highway with her walker and someone calls the law, they'll just have to take her somewhere. I don't know what else to do.

In the meantime, I set out to find a psychiatrist who will take medicare, a feat everyone told me would be nearly impossible. I made two phone calls. TWO. I found a psychiatric office in Big City that has two nurse practioners who take medicare.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Her appointment is next month. In the meantime, I just tell her I don't wanna hear her made up crap when she starts babbling nonsense. It might not be what I should do, but ya know, she pretty much treated me like crap my whole life. I've mustered all the compassion I'm capable of.

Since we're on the subject of health care in America or rather, the screwed up state thereof, I went to get my colchicine refilled last weekend and was told Wally World didn't have enough to fill my prescription. I had mentioned before that it was being taken off the market and I'd be forced to buy the same drug from a "brand name" manufacturer once that happened. Well, to have my 90 day supply filled with the new supplier, the cost would be $541 vs. the $12 I'd paid before.

Okay, maybe that's not the exact amount. After her mouth formed the words "five hundred" my eyes kinda glazed over with shock and I may have yelled "GOOD GAWD ALMIGHTY!" right there at the drop off window at the Wally World pharmacy.

Luckily they had about 10 days worth of the old, non FDA approved stuff left, so I took that instead. When I got home, I went to the Colcrys website and found that you can make up to six times the national poverty level and still be  eligible for a discount. After entering our family income and household size, it was determined that I could get it for free.

Which is awesome.. and sort of sad at the same time. I got Dr. Sexypants to fill out some forms and mailed them in, along with proof of income and I've got my fingers crossed that I'll get it before I run out of the old stuff.

I'm thankful I can get it for free, but when they can offer that big a discount to people making WAY more than I do, it makes you wonder if they're not just sticking it to the insurance companies like crazy if they're charging them over $500.

Just a thought.

Let's see.. what else? Well, It's hotter 'n demon snot here in the south, but I figure most of ya'll know that already. My grass is butthole deep to a heifer and I can't get to the garden at all. It looks way too snakey out there. If there's ever a break in the heat (less than 100 would be great tvm) I'll at least cut a path to the tomatoes. The garden has pretty much completely gotten away from me. Next year's will definitely be smaller and there will be way less zucchini. Once I get the tomatoes harvested, I'll probably just till it all up and start over next year. I got myself way in over my head.

Live and learn.

All the critters are fat and sassy, spending most of their time soaking up the a.c. The Amazon is still working at the call center for the pretend bank. I've been stuck at home most of the time, sharing my truck while she waits for payday so she can buy a new fuel pump for her Blazer. It's business as usual here in Frog Pond Holler.

I hope ya'll are having an awesome summer, free of boob sweat and skeeters. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!!

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I'm Trapped in Bizzaro World

Lawd have mercy ya'll. We've got lots to cover, so strap yourself in and grab some liquid refreshment. It's gonna be a long, bumpy ride.

The Amazon ended up not buying Dubya's old property. She was approved (on her own, mind you) for 85% of the asking price, but there was some horsechit about the selling real estate company not accepting the financing. I thought, the bank cuts a check, they get their money. Apparently I don't know jack squat. After it was suggested that I just have our property refinanced to pay for it, I said effit. More debt for me was not in my game plan.

In gardening news: One end of my garden is all weeds, but the other end is full of zucchini and beans. It seems the seeds I bought from someone on Etsy were of the mutant, hughnormous variety. There are zucchini as big around as your arm. I suspect they're actually leftovers from some shady government experiment in world domination. You could use them as lethal weapon.

No tomatoes yet, but there are plenty of blooms. The green beans seem unusually large as well. The cucumber vines have taken over everything else and are covered in blooms. I'm a little afraid.

I was off from The Asylum from last Thursday until yesterday. I cleaned carpets, moved furniture, evicted one dog crate doubling as an end table, scrubbed the kitchen floor and got my license and tags renewed.

I'm all legal and crap. Broke. But legal.

I'm supposed to get my new license in the mail. I fear the photo.

I took Ma back to the doctor last week. I told him she was hearing things, talking to people who weren't there, seeing things. I HOPED he'd ship her to the home suggest it was time for a nursing facility. Instead?

"Let's get her an appointment with a psychiatrist."

*blink*

I think I've already been down this road. Last time, they sent her to a non licensed therapist who couldn't prescribe medication.

What good does it do to sit down and talk about your problems when you're in another world?

Anywho... that was last Tuesday and I've still not heard back from the service handling her referral. Yesterday she was waiting to babysit a 4 ½ month old. Then she was going to fix it some tea, because it had intestinal problems. Later, she called me in her room to take care of Michael. He'd made a mess of himself and she couldn't get in there to clean him up. She demanded that I go get him cleaned up.

Apparently I'm the maid now. Or the nurse.

And? Who the fluck is Michael? She had an old crackhead /drunk boyfriend named Michael and he did make a mess of himself quite regularly. I also have a cousin named Michael (his real name is Damien, like from The Omen, but it freaked the family out so much that they refused to call him by his first name) and I've got a one legged uncle named Michael (at least that's what I've always been told. I found out his namesake, a son, is actually named Miguel when he was arrested for having sex with a high school student a couple of years ago.. so my one legged uncle might actually be Miguel.)

Confused yet?

Thelma suggested I have her committed. That would mean that Thelma's hubby, the town cop, would come get her and take her to the nuthut in the police car. After some discussion, we decided I could just take her to the E.R. and have the same result, without involving the PoPo.

Lawsy.

I know ya'll are sick of hearing about it. I know you're sitting there going, "Oh My God would you just take her to the home already!!!"

I don't blame you. Really.

But seriously, you take batshit crazy to the doctor and tell him she's hearing voices and talking to people who aren't there you assume he'd have enough sense to DO SOMETHING.

Maybe they have an extra bed for him.

Hopefully The Amazon can make room in her suddenly very busy social schedule so that we can use her vehicle on her day off tomorrow. Ma says she can't get in and out of Jolene, although after watching her take off across the road with her walker the other day, I doubt that's true.

So we'll see.

In the meantime, life goes on.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon. If I don't beat Ma to the nuthut.

Later Taters!

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