Mahala and the Gypsy

I was in Big City a few weeks back with time to kill before Ma's appointment at the bone doc. It was on the far side of town, an area I rarely get to, so I decided to loafer around and see what I could find.

I cruised down the main drag and after I passed all the big shopping centers, with their fancy Wally World and hair salons, I found myself on the sketchy side of town. I passed run down used car lots, thrift stores and discount shoe outlets. I spotted a Goodwill I didn't know about, where I scored a skull shaped cake pan for The Amazon, like this one:

Awesome sauce!

Anywho, pulling out of the Goodwill parking lot, I spotted a tiny brick building that looked like it used to be a doctor's office, only it was covered with signs offering $10 Tarot readings. Some of you may already know that I used to do readings, I sleep with my cards by my bed and occasionally still use them.

But I'd never had a reading by someone else.

I had time and ten bucks, so I decided to give it a shot.

There was a tiny sign on the front door with Sheila's phone number. It said if the door was locked to send a text and she'd be right there. However, I didn't get a chance to send a text and was greeted by a chunky dark haired man leading someone out. He asked if I had an appointment, I told him no and he showed me the way to the waiting room. I followed him down the hallway, past a pile of junk mail in the floor, bare walls and very little in the way of decor.

Big Feller told me to have a seat and went to let Sheila know she had a victim customer. The room was small and white, with words written in large black script on the walls. They read "Happiness," "Love" and "Peace." In the corner there was a ginormous teddy bear, so ginormous that I could have sat in it's lap.

I was tempted.

I would have taken pictures, but in my excitement I'd left my phone in the truck. My mind raced, I was hopeful. I've been to countless psychic fairs & mystique shops, looking for someone, anyone who seemed legitimate, who didn't play on peoples insecurities and grief to make a dollar. I can't handle the wide eyed earth Mothers who see angels everywhere, waving crystals around wreaking of patchouli and weed.

Not that I don't think there are others around us, whether you call them guardians, guides, angels or spirits. I just tend to think of them in a more practical way.

I really didn't have high hopes for this roadside psychic either. I guess I just wanted to see what would happen.

Sheila walked in to the room about five minutes later, wearing a sweater pulled tight around her nightgown, no bra, barefoot. Her hair was short, blonde with black roots and had been quickly assembled in a clip in the back.

She had obviously just gotten out of bed. It was 1pm.

She led me into another room with a table in the center, we sat and she introduced herself, offering her hand, which I took. It was like shaking a cold overcooked lasagna noodle.

"I do tarot, palms, tea, whatever you want," Shirley explained.

"I just want the $10 card reading."

"Oh that's just a sample. A tarot reading is $50." And here we go, I thought.

I explained that I didn't have much time and was on my way to an appointment. I told her that I'd be back another time for a full reading, but I already knew what I'd come to find out.

Her eyes were down cast as she said, "Someone is jealous of you. Their energy is preventing you from being successful. You need spiritual work done to reverse this. I can do spiritual work for you here. You don't even have to come here, I can do it remotely."

Oooookay.

"There is someone you are in a relationship with.. but you are not yet committed to one another. I can work on this for you."

"Um, I've not been in any kind of "relationship" for a long time." She wasn't just way off base, she was out in the parking lot.

"Maybe you do not know yet. Maybe he does not realize it yet, but there is someone who wants to git wit you. You must let me work on this for you."

Yes, she said "git wit you." Her accent wasn't thick, but she had one.

After a few minutes of her trying to convince me that I was in serious spiritual danger from all sides and that for a charge she could fix this for me, I thanked her and told her I needed to leave for my appointment. I pulled out my debit card, which in retrospect was pretty stupid, but it's what I had. Sheila made sad face and told me the machine worked but gosh golly gee, it wouldn't print a receipt.

Really?

"That's ok, I'll just watch you run it." Which I did, then walked around paranoid has hell for two weeks, afraid I'd have a $200 charge show up.

I left disappointed.

I've always believed there are others watching over us and I've had enough experiences to convince me it's true. I'd just like to find someone.. anyone.. who can validate that I'm not losing my noodle.

Ya'll know it runs in the family.

Anywho, back to the grind. Ya'll have a good one, we'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Skunks, Prophecies and Dead Cameras

I awakened this morning to the fresh scent of skunk juice, the perfect start to a Monday morning. They only seem to spray right outside my bedroom window. It smells nasty enough to make your toenails curl.

Speaking of toenails, mine is going to fall off. It's turned solid white.. like death white. I can wiggle it, which feels gross but I'm compelled to try at least once a day. I have a feeling my gimp toe is going to be a source of sick amusement for me for quite a while. 

Don't worry, I'll be sure to share any new developments. 

~ ♥ ~

I wrote awhile ago about having read the Celestine Prophecy books and the effect they had on me. Recently my thoughts have wandered back to things of a spiritual nature, sort of in the back of my mind, tapping on the door of my consciousness. Having made it through therapy has helped to clear out some of the junk spinning around in there enough for me to make sense out of some things. 

Okay, that sounded a little nutso.. even for me. 

Anywho..

Yesterday I was laying around being lazy keeping my toe elevated after spending Saturday weed whacking and hedge lopping and decided to kick back with my net book and watch a movie. When I stumbled across a movie version of The Celestine Prophecies I squeed with glee. 

No, for real. I squeed. It made me happy. 

~ ♥ ~

Remember the other day when I said Pupzilla had eaten my camera case? Well, she not only ripped through the indestructible Samsonite case, she gnawed a big chunk out of the buttons. The camera comes on, but that's about it. If you can't push the button, you can't take pictures and well.. dammit.. now I don't have a camera. The really sucky bit? Just hours before realizing my camera had been rendered useless, I had ordered a new usb cable for the damn thing, because Pupzilla ate that too. 

I love my pup but dang.

She'll be six months old this Thursday. Maybe we're almost done with the chewing stage. 

Yeah I know. Let me dream okay?

~ ♥ ~

Alright ya'll, let's take this Monday by the chin hairs and hit the ground running. Spring is in the air, the birds are squawking and there's a rustling in the brush. It's time to get moving. 

We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

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Night Air

Walking out on the porch last night in the cool night air, I paused a moment. There's something about being outside at night when the temperatures hover between the heat of summer and the winter cold, a tiny taste of excitement floating on the breeze. For a moment I was taken back to summer camp, the crackling fire and stories of Indians canoeing through the Great Dismal Swamp.

I needed to get to the dollar store before they closed, but I waited, my eyes closed, inhaling, taking in the scent of the air, breathing in memories of family gatherings, the aroma of a cooling BBQ grill, the taste of cold beer, the sound of happy rednecks laughing and remembering the joy of chasing lightning bugs around my Aunt Gail's backyard.

Memories of late night rendezvous, sitting on the hood of a police car in an empty shopping mall parking lot, snuggling up to the crisply ironed surface of a dark uniform, his aftershave mixing with the fragrance of the night air.

Walking in sand, the sound of waves rolling gently into shore, beach side campfires, giggly preteens spying on boys as they walk past their campsites at night, feeling so grownup, little women who don't really know a thing.

Breathe deep.

Turning Points and Balding Angels

Hell week at the Asylum is almost over. One more day.

Remember last month when I said I kicked bootay during my week as the sole sales ninja? Well.. this week I didn't kick bootay. It was more like.. I was run over and ripped to shreds like the last piece of fried chicken at a southern church picnic.

Give me strength.

Anywho...

I had to go back to the dungeon the engineering department yesterday to dig for an old part number from 30 years ago. As I bent down to retrieve a pile of dusty prints from the bottom drawer, I caught sight of The Groper from the corner of my eye... leering at me from over the top of his glasses. He wheezed his greeting in an asthmatic whisper and I decided that the whopping $23 we stood to make on the sale of this old part was not worth the spine tingling creepiness I was having to deal with. I'd let Bossman come back and dig for it on Monday.

As I left engineering, making my way past the laser cutters and the tool crib, I spotted Luther working at one of the machines. He smiled, waving to me through the cloud of weld dust. I felt the grin forming on my lips and waved back then hurried back inside the office before The Groper showed up again.

Luther's been working at the Asylum for almost as long as it's been in operation. Tall, chubby, sort of dark and balding, my first impression of Luther was that he was just another "good ol' boy" from up on the mountain. He seemed good hearted, a hard worker and maybe just a little simple minded.

Back when I was the self proclaimed queen of the IRC chatrooms, my online nickname was "dolphie" and I used to wear this silver and crystal dolphin pendant. One afternoon I was in the breakroom at work, raiding the Wheel O' Death, the home of stale Twinkies and gray mystery meat microwave sandwiches, when Luther came in and said hello. As I began to leave, he stopped me, kinda cocked his head to the side and asked, "Are you Wiccan?"

"Ummm no.. why do you ask?" I was a little worried. Most of the guys around here wouldn't be familiar with Pagan religions and even if I were Wiccan, I'm not 100% sure I would have had the courage to admit it.

"I noticed your crystal," he explained.

"OH! Oh no. I mean.. if someone is.. that's cool.. but I'm not.." I went on to explain why I wore the necklace and we had a nice little chat about computers and the internet. I soon returned to my office, which back then was still in accounting and told Lulu what had happened.

"Yeah.. Luther's different. He grew up here, but he was born in Germany. I don't remember exactly how the story goes, but I think his mom was from here and met his dad over there, then he left them and she married someone else and moved here... something like that," she explained.

Me and Luther (who, by the way, is very happily married to a lovely lady) have had a lot of off the wall conversations over the years, conversations about religion, faith and spirituality that neither of us felt we could have had with anyone else here in the holler. It was Luther who first loaned me a copy of "Holy Blood, Holy Grail" which lead to a whole new level of break room conversations between us.

Some of ya'll may remember last summer when I was volunteered for a special project.. thingie.. where I ended up crawling around in the floor for a week. Luther was on the same "team" and we spent alot of time talking while we worked on machinery in the blistering heat.

"Mahala.. how come you ain't never been married?" he asked. I'm pretty sure everyone else in the holler has wondered the same thing, it's only taken Luther about 12 years to work up the courage to ask. I explained that when the Amazon was young, I didn't feel comfortable dating so I'd kinda just put things off. In the meantime, I'd let myself go and gotten so out of the swing of things, that I figured that by now.. it was pretty much hopeless.

"You know what I think?" he asked. "One of these days, you're gonna up and marry you a rich ol' millionaire. You'll just show everybody 'round here. Whatcha think about that?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Oh Luther.. no one wants this," I said, motioning to my own body.

"Mahala, I don't know anyone else like you in this whole world and you can take that as a compliment. You just wait and see. I know what I'm talkin' about," he said, smiling a little and nodding as he spoke.

I made up an excuse to go outside on break after that. I went around behind the building where no one would see me and sat on the pavement, beside the big dumpsters full of scrap metal and busted wooden pallets.

And I cried.

Not a delicate, broken rose cry. It was the full snot face ugly girl cry. The kind that hurts your nose and renders you temporarily blind.

It wasn't purdy ya'll.

I've made alot of changes since that day and I'm still a work in progress, but regardless of what happens, everytime I look at Luther it reminds me that someone looked me in the eye and made me feel like I was worth something.

And it was just what I needed.

Anywho.. I guess my point is... a few kind words can go a long way.

It's Friday ya'll. The weekend is almost upon us. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

P.S. If you're in the L.A. area, Eddie Izzard is doing a few more small shows this weekend. Click here for more info.

Pot Heads and Shopping Trips

It's a bright, sunny day here in the holler. The house is filled with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the sound of Ma yacking up a wad of mucus like she's on death's door.

The springtime fresh mountain air, it's a killer.

The Amazon and I headed out to Big City, on the day before a religious holiday... in the south.. Bible Belt Central no less.. because I'm a glutton for punishment and because the Amazon thought she was gonna die if she didn't get a Red Lobster fix. Somehow we managed to miss all the crowds and we didn't see much traffic. I was pleasantly surprised.

She was buying dinner, since it was her idea and my heart swelled with pride when I saw her slip our server a coupon. Proof positive that the Amazon is indeed the Fruit of My Womb.

After being sufficiently stuffed with sea creatures and cheddar biscuits (Holy garlic butter Batman, those biscuits should come with legal limits) we headed to the hair salon. Okay.. maybe "salon" isn't the right word for a chain with "clips" in the name, but I refuse to go back to that other chain salon. Everytime I go I end up with that flippen pot head... Moon Unit or Crab Grass or whatever the hell her name is. She looks like the hippie chick from the Muppet Show. When you see her and you just know she's got the Grateful Dead's last album cover tattooed on her left ass cheek. It doesn't matter how many stylists are working, how many customers are waiting, if I go to that shop I end up with the "Just Say No" poster child.

For the record, I don't have a problem with the occasional enjoyment of a little wacky weed. I'm just gonna need for you to be reasonably straight before you start wielding a pair of scissors around my face. Seriously.

Anywho...

So we went to this new place and although of the three stylists working, I ended up with the one who was working her first day, who told me her mother, father, father-in-law, husband and dog had all died with in the past year and who called her 26 year old college student daughter a bitch who always wanted money, I at least got a decent hair cut.

Bless her heart.

We also stopped at the shoe store, since the shoes I've been wearing to work have experienced some kind of blowout. Everytime I step down with my right foot, it squeaks like dog toy. I go flying down the hall towards the GM's office to get something signed and by the time I get there, he's snickering, "I can hear you coming... *thud squeak thud squeak*... you can't sneak up on nobody!"

So yeah.. I needed shoes and since I've been putting an extra 6 miles a week on them anyway, I figured I'd better get some decent ones. Fashion's not really an issue at the office anymore, there's hardly ever anyone there, so I've been wearing some old, black Reeboks. I ended up buying an almost identical, if slightly upgraded pair and they were having a "BOGO" half off sale, so the Amazon got some fancy new Sketcher sandals.

Somewhere in there we swung by the K-Mart so the Amazon could visit with the Gritlet, stopped at the new, ginormous Barnes and Noble and made the life altering decision to avoid the Wal-Mart all together.

On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store to pick up a ham and few other things, then we came home. Finally.

At like.. 10:30 last night I was in the bathroom putting the hi-lights in my hair. I've deemed the hair coloring experiment a success. Holly-freakin-loo-ya.

We're not really doing anything special for Easter. I'll sling the ham in the oven in a couple of hours, make some mashed potatoes and nuke some frozen peas. Ma has requested we make some coconut cream pie, so we got the fixin's for that last night. With the Amazon grown there's no need to dye eggs, although I'm pretty sure if I went out and hid them while she was at work this morning, she would so be out there skipping around with her little basket when she got off.

She's a dork that way. It must skip a generation.

I don't do church or religion in general. I have a strong spiritual faith which I've learned it's best to keep close to my heart. Having said that, I hope that after all sermons have been heard, all the chocolate bunnies devoured and sparkly, multi-colored eggs have been found that all ya'll get up tomorrow morning and find one thing you can do for someone else.

One thing.

Someone you know is hungry, scared or lonely. Call them up. Share a meal. Toss a can of corn in the food bank collection box.

Then Tuesday? Find one more. That's when you'll feel it.. what it's really all about.

Ya'll have a happy Easter.. and just love one another.

Later Taters!

Around Town and Around the Trailer

My visit to the eye doctor at the Big City mall was chock full of surprises. First, one would assume that a walk-in optometrist office situated in the mall, adjacent to a large vision correction chain store would be wall-to-wall people on a Saturday afternoon. When I commented to the staff that I was surprised at how I barely had to wait at all, the sweet little girl behind the counter said, "Hmmm, yes it is strange. We've been crazy busy all day. You had perfect timing, an unusual Saturday for sure."

I would go in to how that statement verified what I already knew had been a two day lesson in synchronicity, but I don't want to cause a snoozefest with the details. Just take my word that sometimes, life is a wondrous thing.

As for the actual visit, I went in expecting to hear what I've always been told by eye doctors, that my vision is passable, that a weak prescription would be helpful while driving or watching t.v. and maybe to ease computer eye strain. Sure.. I know as you get older, things tend to go downhill a bit, but when the good doc smiled and told me I could use bifocals I nearly fell out of the chair.

I reckon going 15 years between eye exams isn't an advisable thing to do.

He said I could get by with the distance adjusting prescription for maybe another year, but he was confident I wouldn't make it any longer than that. He wrote it both ways, I got the "so I won't see monkeys while driving" glasses for now, but I can go back and get the "pass me the Geritol and pull up a rocker" set with the same prescription. He said it like... when I'm ready to accept the fact that I can't see and need them.

I'm seriously reconsidering my decision to stop coloring my hair. Suddenly I'm not feeling so spry and perky.

I know.. I should stop whining. Most of my family have had to wear corrective lenses since childhood and one or two cousins have had to endure eye surgery when they were just wee little things. I'm just a little surprised is all.

I got the $99 frames, but I'm not going to say how much I ended up walking out of there spending. When I discovered that these weren't going to be "once in a while" glasses, I splurged a little and got something I could live with long term.

Thank goodness for tax refunds.

Enough of my whining, in other news...

The big news around town is the deconstruction of the pub. Ya'll may remember that the pub owner died in a car accident, coming back from Big City on election night. There's been alot of assumptions and speculation about what was going to happen to the property, the building has stood for a long, long time. I can remember walking back through town from the old movie theater with Ma, after seeing "The Frogs" and having to leave in the middle 'cuz Ma got freaked out. We stopped at the cafe that used to be housed in the same building where the pub later opened for business.

I was six years old at the time and had already developed an unrestrained mouth. I announced to the entire cafe that we had to leave 'cuz Ma got scared, leading to roars of laughter and the first of many firm talking tos on learning not to be quite so quick to share information with the masses.

I've never really gotten the hang of that.

Anywho... the old building is being torn down and rebuilt, but because it sits in a flood plain, it's taking some redneck ingenuity to git r' done. According to town gossip, if the whole structure ever comes down, it can't be rebuilt, so rumor has it that the new owners are taking down the roof and three walls and rebuilding them before replacing the remaining wall, effectively tiptoeing all around the whole "flood plain" problem.

That's how we roll down here in the holler.

Here around the trailer...

Me and the Amazon have decided to have a veggie garden this year. Ya'll may remember last year when we attempted to grow some stuff in containers. After buying pots, potting soil and seeds, that little investment ended up yielding one, tiny, premie lookin' cucumber... which we fed to the wild bunnies.

Not to be out done, this year we're having a big chunk of the yard tilled up, where we'll attempt to grow something edible. I'm hoping that by putting the garden in the same spot where Granny used to have hers, there might be a little spiritual intervention, maybe a little ancestral nudge, to help things along.

I'll take any help I can get.



This is the future home of the garden project. I'll keep ya'll posted on the progress. If I never mention it again, you'll know it turned in to a giant clusterfuck.

I have to admit, I'm almost as excited to get the ground tilled up as I am to attempt to grow a garden. The area you see is also the area where our most treasured ancient tribal artifact was found, a large, arrowhead shaped tool, first thought to be a dirt clod. I have a few odds and ends I've picked up around the yard and I'm positively giddy at the thoughts of getting in there with a hoe and playing archaeologist.

Yes, I'm weird. Just accept it.

I guess that's all for today. If you need me, I'll be walking around the house admiring all the newly discovered cobwebs and dustbunnies.

The house seemed alot cleaner when it was all a blur.

Ya'll enjoy your day and I'll be back when I can grab a minute or two in my suddenly, hectic schedule.

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!

Murderous Thoughts, the FBI and Why I'm a Rock Star

In my attempt to be a kinder, more spiritually evolved being, I've been been making an attempt to be nicer to Bubbles. The fact that we now spend a grand total of three hours a day together has helped matters, but I don't mind telling you that when she started smacking that chewing gum yesterday afternoon, it took all the self control I could muster to keep from leaping over the cubicle wall, all silent and ninja-like, wrapping my chubby little fingers around her neck and choking the snot out of her.

Not that I have violent tendencies or anything.

And seriously? If you're only working six hours a day and the GM is watching every move you make, would you take a long break in the afternoon to go on a nature walk with the GM's secretary?

Really?

*Deep breath... exhale slowly... moving on*

Ya'll will be glad to know I de-clogged the backed up sink Sunday night. I only plunged for about a half an hour, alternating between each side, before the non-inbred part of my brain kicked in and I realized I needed to block off one side in order to do any good.

I'm slow.. but I do catch on eventually.

Afterwards, it dawned on me that the clog might be the reason the dishwasher leaked water all over the kitchen the other day, not a busted pipe. So I tried it and there was no leak.

So yeah.. I'm feeling like a Home Repair Rock Star right about now.

Did ya'll see where the FBI is filling a bunch of job positions? I was all over their website, praying that there was a field office over in Big City, but unfortunately the closest one is in Knoxville, with another in Charlotte.

Seriously.. I would have applied.

Do you ever watch "Criminal Minds?" You know the character Garcia? I'd love to be her. While it's true that I don't posses her haxor skizzles, I love digging up dirt on people on the web. Just ask the Lyin' Assed Canadian. If it's out there.. I'll find it. Oh yeah and like Garcia, I could go for a sexy man with twinkling eyes calling me "Babygirl" whenever he needed information... just sayin'.

Anywho.. it's almost time for my cud chewing co-worker Bubbles to come in. I'm going to go say a silent prayer for the strength to keep from slapping her upside the head with Desk Monkey find peace.

Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Religion, Politics and Other Touchy Subjects

In an effort to not think about:

#1 The fact that the Amazon is out with Aunt Moses learning to drive a straight shift and

#2 When I called Bossman to find out if I need to work Monday or not, he said, "Yeah, come on in Monday, then I can let you know what's going to happen,"

I've decided to focus on the award I received from MJ at Note to Self:

"The honorees are to: A) first list 10 honest things about yourself - and make it interesting, even if you have to dig deep! B) pass the award on to 7 bloggers that you feel embody the spirit of the Honest Scrap."

So here goes:

1. I spend alot of time convincing people that I'm not all about this small town living, but late at night when no one's looking, sometimes I watch the RFD channel. Dude... the original Hee-Haw comes on Sunday nights!

2. People around the holler like to whisper that I'm a lesbian because I speak out about gay rights and I've only had one date in the last ten years. Just for the record.. I'm not. I'm totally all about me some winky action. As a matter of fact, I think that will be my one New Year's goal. Winky action... gettin' some. You heard it here first.

3. I love watching the World Music videos on Link TV.

4. I also like to practice belly dance moves when no one's looking. One of my aunts danced professionally and taught me a few when I was little.

5. On my bedroom bookshelf, there are angels, a Buddha, a wooden box with Romani symbols, a Wiccan star and a cross. There is also a Bible, a copy of the Nag Hammadi and a book detailing the modern lives of Gypsies in the Czeck republic. I've read them all cover to cover. There are more too, but I can't tell you all my secrets. Draw your own conclusions.

6. I can simply imagine myself returning to the beach, sticking my toes in the sand feeling the ebb and flow of the waves tugging at my soul to bring myself to tears. I miss it that much.

7. I grew up in a culturally diverse neighborhood and spent my impressionable, high school years at a mostly black high school (Booker T. Washington High, thankyouverymuch.) For most of my childhood, Ma worked at a small Roses store in downtown Norfolk, where the most of the staff and customers were black. As a result, most of the funerals, weddings and holiday gatherings I attended outside of the family were in the homes and congregations of black people. When you consider that my entire family moved to Norfolk from Frog Pond Holler, bringing their thick, hillbilly accents with them, you'll realize why, when I get all wound up about something or worse, get in a verbal altercation, I revert to an accent that has often been referred to as "ghetto hillbilly."

It's not unlike that of "Joy" on "My Name is Earl."

And yes, I prefer to use the term black, not African American. In the neighborhood where I grew up, if someone referred to any of the sweet little old ladies that lined our street as "African American" they would be quick to point out that they were not born in Africa, they were not "African American," they were AMERICAN. You don't call "white" people "European American" do you?

8. I can't make scratch biscuits or gravy to save my effin' life. The dog won't even touch them. Thank heavens for frozen biscuits and those little packets of instant gravy.

9. Mahala Davis is a pen name. My real name is ridiculously country, having been named after my two grandmothers. I don't care if ya'll know my real name, but can you imagine if someone from town were to stumble across my blog? Heads would roll. Namely... mine.

10. I know the meaning of life. When you brush away all the politics, all the "rules" of religion, all the borders, races and other assorted bull crap... it is simply this: Unconditional Love. When you have mastered that one, simple thing, the rest will all fall in to place and you will know true peace.

So there you have it. I hope I didn't rehash too many things I've already told ya'll in the past. If any of you want to tackle ten things, let me know in the comments and I'll give you a little linky love.

As I write this, I'm trying to psyche myself up to not dwell on what may come on Monday. They laid off 5 people Wednesday, then the GM came by and told me and Bubbles to take today off, so you can see why Bossman's comment when I called him today sorta worried me. I've been walking around muttering, "everything happens for a reason" and "when one door closes, another one opens," etc.

Ya'll have a booty kickin' weekend! We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!

Murder in the Holler

It's 10:30 on Christmas Eve morning. I have not showered. I haven't brushed my hair. I did manage to change from my beltless robe to some actual clothes. When Ma informed me that my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin was on her way, I grabbed the first thing I could find, a twenty year old dark blue t-shirt with a giant hole in the left pit and some shorts.

It's not like I have to leave the house or anything.

The Amazon took the truck to go perform the last day of her professional ding-a-ling duties for the Salvation Army and I seriously doubt I'll be venturing out in to the yard. It is bear season here in the holler ya know. I'd hate to get shot out by the broken down hippy van, tossed in the back of a pick up with six howling hounds and hauled to the nearest shop o' taxidermy before Big Huntin' Bubba realizes I'm not a bear, just a frumpilicious trailer dweller who's legs are in serious need of a Lady Remington.

So yeah... I'm staying in for the duration.

Moving on...

There was a crime wave here in the holler yesterday morning. That's right, you big city dwellers don't have all the excitement.

The culprit:

From Blogger Pictures

When I went to check on the fish babies yesterday morning, I opened the aquarium lid and peered inside where I found one of the frogs, Sheldon, sitting fat and happy inside the net where I was keeping the babies. He was all like, "That was effin' yummy! Got anymore snacks like that?" and I was all like, "BASTID!!! YOU ATE MY BABIES!!" and then he started singing "The Circle of Life," trying to be all like Elton John and crap.

He not only ate the babies, he ate all the food and everything else in there too. It looked like he sucked the whole net clean. Then? He didn't want to leave the net. I had to poke him in his little froggie butt to get him out of it.

I tried to shake it off, kicked myself for not realizing that, of course, Leonard and Sheldon would see baby fishies as a tasty treat and while the net would protect them from the other fish, the froggies have actual little webbed hand like thingies and would have no problem climbing inside.

I stopped at the Gas n' Go where the Amazon was sitting behind the counter, knitting and watching cartoons hard at work selling fuel and chewin' tobaccy to the good citizens of Frog Pond Holler on my way to work. She'd been churning snot for a few days which had slowly turned in to the creepin' chest crud, so I dropped some cold medicine off for her in case she started feeling worse.

When I told her of Sheldon's murderous spree, she first expressed genuine concern. When I told her the part about him singing like Elton John, a small smile formed on her lips and she said, in an Australian accent, with a nod to Meryl Streep, "The froggeh ate my baby!!!" then proceeded to giggle uncontrollably.

I tried giving her the STFU stink eye, but the harder she tried to stifle herself, the more she snorted and chortled.

So yeah, Sheldon the frog ate my baby fishies. The bastid.

Anywho... I hope ya'll have a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Crazy Kwanzaa, Sweet Saturnalia and regardless of what you celebrate, this season finds you with love in your heart and surrounded by people you love.

Later Taters!

Drama, New Critters and Major Girl Scout Fail

Lawsy! The Christmas shopping in Big City on Monday was mayhem.. MAYHEM I tell ya! How I ever got the bright idea that I'd avoid the crowds by not going on the weekend is beyond me.

I hit the road out of Frog Pond Holler around tennish, after running to the plant to pick up my paycheck then to the bank and the post office. Once I made it out of Hee-Haw county, my first stop was the mall.

I walked the entire Big City mall, no small feat by the way and bought absolutely nothing. I then went to every craft store, book store, department, discount and pet store within a twenty mile radius.

Okay.. maybe not every single one, but my feet seem to think that yes, we visited them all. I managed to find everything I was looking for, with the exception of one or two little bits and pieces.

I think I'm done. Well... almost. There are still one or two things I want to pick up for Ma and one thing I might run by Wal-Mart for this weekend.

I know.. Wal-Mart on the Saturday before Christmas. I am either very brave or extremely foolish.

My last stop before heading home was the Pet Not-So-Smart, where I bought myself a little somethin' somethin' for my birthday. Four somethin' somethin's actually.

Ya'll know I'm a little on the weird side, odd even, in an endearing sort of way. *wink*

Most women, when faced with their 43rd birthday, would probably buy clothing, nice shoes, maybe even treat themselves to some jewelry.

Me?

I bought myself two Dalmation Mollies and... a pair of African Dwarf Frogs. The frogs are named Leonard and Sheldon. If you know the show those names are from, you're probably a little weird too (I mean that in the nicest way!) The Mollies haven't been named yet.

When I got home, at like 7 p.m., draggin' ass and toting my little bag o' frogs and fishies like a 6 year old with fresh carnival winnings, I found a birthday cake and a bouquet of flowers compliments of the Amazon.

It was a great birthday.

As if that wasn't enough excitement for one week, what with the cakes and the frogs and whatnot, we had to evacuate the Asylum yesterday.

I was sitting at my desk playing on plurk and facebook working diligently when I over heard someone across the hall say "911" and "flames" and "HOLY SHIT." I promptly shut my computer down, started cramming my desk monkey, lamb and piggy in to my purse and hollered for Bossman. Once we all made it outside, I turned to look at Thelma and we both said the same thing, "Where's Lulu?"

Now, before I go on I should tell ya'll that in the event of fire, I have but one.. ONE responsibility. See, Lulu doesn't have a supervisor here, technically, because she works for the Big Headed German who's office is at the other plant. Therefore, there is no one to "count" her wee little head during evacuations, so it's a running joke that in the event of a fire (and only then) I am responsible for making sure Lulu makes it out alive.

Apparently this little tidbit of information wasn't stored in the part of my brain where I put important things I need to remember and when the need arose to evactuate the building, my head kicked in to "every chubby girl for herself" mode and I promptly made like a bat out of hell.

Thelma ran back in to the burning building to make sure Lulu wasn't about to meet certain death, sitting on the toilet, while I stood in the rain stroking my desk monkey.

All Girl Scout badges I earned as a small child are being revoked. They may even take away my Brownie beanie.

Oh and Lulu wasn't poised upon the throne during all the drama. The silly girl was out on a "fitness walk," where she was nearly run off the road by the three racing fire trucks that came barreling up the road behind her.

Although she forgave me for not rushing to rescue her from the burning building, I was firmly reprimanded for not grabbing her purse and dress shoes.

The fire, which started when some debris blew in to an exhaust fan... or something, ended up being contained to a small area of the roof and damage was minimal. We're all back in our places with bright shining faces this morning.

I hope the drama is over for a few days. I know everything turned out fine in the end, but it was a little frightening, standing there in the rain wondering if it was really going to burn down this time. It's amazing what starts going through your mind.. the truck payment, the house payment, Christmas... it's humbling and when it's over you realize how lucky you are to even have a job nowadays.

So it's all good.

Ya'll have an awesometastic Humpalicious Hump Day!

Later Taters!

Try It, You'll Like it!

This weekend, when ya'll are out doing your Christmas shopping, running from store to store, fighting the crowds, I'd like ya'll to do something for me.

As you're driving down the highway and that carload of hormonally charged, impolite teenaged hooligans cuts you off in traffic....

When the crochetdy little old lady wields her pocket book at your head like a caveman's club, just as you're reaching for the very last Hannah Montana doll....

If the woman behind you in line has a screaming toddler in the cart and a 6 year old whining with a bad case of the "I want," knocking your stress level up a few notches...

Take a deep breath, close your eyes and hum along to the chorus of this little jewel from Otis Redding:




Sway a little, tap your feet.... and just try a little tenderness. It's contagious.

I'll be back later this weekend with more. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!

Shopping Trips and Exposed Nips

It's rainy and gray in the holler today. I'm sorta rainy and gray too, but I'm working on that.

I got off work yesterday, made a pit stop at the bank, then home and on to Scary Hillbilly Town without missing a beat. First stop was CVS. I'm trying to head off this funky nose crud which is kicking my FMF in to over drive, so I needed to pick up some meth lab decongestants. They had Ma's particular brand of peed-a-little pads on sale too, so I got her two ginormous packs. The lady at the drug counter was so sweet, as I stood there breaking out in a cold sweat, my face glowing red and trying not to look like a meth addict.

I'm so sexay-sexay.

A quick explanation, since some of you have emailed and asked for more information about FMF: With FMF, any kind of injury or infection sends your body's normal reaction into overdrive, causing freaky fevers for little or no reason. There are lots of other fun skin eruptions and symptoms, including amyloidosis which is the buildup of excess protein in various joints and tissues. Treatment with colchicine keeps that part in check.

Like I said: I'm a sexay mutha fecker

After CVS, I went to Sav-A-Lot. I'd never been there before, but Thelma and Louise said they had better deals on meat and produce than the grocery store here. It looked a little scary, there are always shady characters hanging around in front, but I decided to chance it.

It was stinky in there ya'll. The produce was all bruised up and cost just as much as the shiny stuff at our local store. The meat had that brown tinge to it. I looked around then left. If the prices had actually been cheaper, I might have chanced it, but I got way better prices when I left there and headed to WallyWorld.

I had to have ink for my printer and Ma needed Cokes, so I decided I'd go ahead and pick up a few groceries there. I was so proud.. I got a 3lb package of Kraft Deli Deluxe cheese for $11.80. 1lb at the local grocery is almost $5.. so I got a deal. I stopped on the way out and got some gas ($1.89 a gallon! OhEmGee!!)

Fulfilling Ma's request, I stopped at Wendy's and picked up cheeseburgers for dinner and finally headed home.

Lawd have mercy, I felt like I'd been beaten with a 2 x 4 when I finally got to sit down. The Amazon went to bed early, she had to work this morning, so I put my feet up and read for a while. I finished "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" earlier in the week and I'm about half way through "Yesterday I Cried" by Iyanla Vanzant. I saw Iyanla on Oprah years ago and loved her instantly. I've read some of her other books and I recommend anything she's written to anyone who needs a lesson in survival and empowerment.

I had weird dreams about Sarah Palin all night (WTF?) she was everywhere, on every t.v. channel, on billboards, the newspaper with this deer in the headlights look and her lips constantly moving. It was like I was being stalked by the Stepford Palin. (This is not a statement of my political beliefs under the guise of a dream. I'm serious. It was scary. I hope equal time regulations don't apply to dreamy time, I have NO desire to spend the night with Joe Biden tip-toeing through the tulips of my subconscious.)

I was graced early this Saturday morning, one of only two mornings when I don't have to get out of bed and make myself presentable, with the presence of my trashy big boobed cousin with the lazy eye's youngin. Ma didn't tell me she was coming until she was in the driveway. I was standing in the kitchen, in front of the stove scrambling some eggs with my untied robe, boobs flopping freely.

I snapped on Ma for not offering me the simple courtesy of informing me that maybe I should put some damned clothes on.

But anywho...

I'm not planning on doing anything too heavy duty this weekend. I'm going to give my creaky joints a rest and maybe do some writing. Yesterday's work-all-day, shop-all-night marathon was all the exertion I can handle for a day or two.

I hope ya'll have a dream filled weekend, free of politicians and drama

Later Taters!

When the Universe Has to Bitch Slap You, You'd Better Listen

My head has been in a weird place lately. I've been really unhappy at work, which I blame on the rock bottom moral, brought about by pay cuts and everyone walking around praying that it's the other guy getting the axe next. I tried to take a proactive approach, doing mass mailings, trying to stir up some business.

The jury's still out on whether that's going to produce anything. It takes FOREVER for snail mail to get to Canada for some reason. I mean.. it's right UP THERE.. it shouldn't take any longer than it takes to get crap to the west coast.. but I digress...

Anywho.. I've been struggling too with my feelings of animosity towards Bubbles. I don't like being in a state of constant anger and aggravation.. and it can't be healthy spending the better part of eight hours, four days a week, silently plotting her demise.

For the past year or so.. heck maybe two.. I've been trying different avenues for making money online in the hopes that someday I can walk away from the Asylum, Bubbles and all the aggravation therein. I've hosted ads for everything from plus sized clothing to cell phones and I wrote really shitty posts for "PayPerPost," resulting in a loss of readers and almost killing my beloved blog. More recently I made an attempt at a CafePress shop and I could have made it work, other than one very small complication..

I really, really suck at Photshop.

I mean, I try.. but it takes me days to crank out one design. I have LOTS of great ideas, but making them appear as I'd like on the screen in front of me results in alot of cussing, the occasional hurling of household objects and the Amazon threatening to outfit the dogs in pith helmets, lest they get injured in the fallout.

I had planned to work on a new design yesterday morning. I sat on the couch, looking across the room at the computer with such a sense of dread, knowing it was going to be a huge pain in my keister. I thought... surely to God there's something I can do that I won't dread this much.

I mentioned the other day that I'd been reading a book in the "Celestine Prophecy" series. I honestly believe everything happens for a reason and picking that book up at the library, helped me clear my mind. It's like I've been swimming against the tide and getting nowhere, when I know.. I know.. all I need to do is let go a little.

I decided, sitting there on the couch yesterday morning, that I needed to figure out something else to do. I took a deep breath... I mindlessly picked up the television remote and started flipping. I stopped on "Iconoclasts," the sight of Desmond Tutu splashing in a pool with Richard Branson making me smile.

There? There were two guys who just seemed to have it all figured out.

Splashing in the pool, laughing.. giggling even, Tutu asked Branson what advice he would give a young man, just starting out. A man who wanted to be successful.

Branson said the money wasn't as important as doing something that gave you pleasure.

I thought about what he said.

"What's my passion?" I thought. "What do I really love doing?"

And man.. it was so simple.

This.

Telling stories, arranging letters in to words, weaving words in to sentences, making them flow in to stories that make people smile.. and more importantly.. make me smile.

This is what I've always loved.

So I thought about it more. I've toyed with the idea of writing a book before. When I tried, I got so caught up in doing research that I barely wrote a thing and gave up. I almost discounted it again... but I stopped myself. Instead of over thinking it, I decided I'd just sit with the idea and see what developed.

Sometime during all this, I posted here about cooking my hag hair and flashing the neighbors. I linked to the post on Plurk (and Twitter.. because I'm a self pimpin' ho like that) and went on about my business. About an hour later, I checked back on Plurk to see if there were any comments. There was one.

Someone who's Plurks I follow, but had never really talked to before, commented that they'd just spent the past hour reading through old posts on my blog, that she'd read some out loud, to who I assume was her significant other, and that they agreed, if I wasn't published.. I should be.

I told her I'd thought about it before, but wouldn't know where to start. I was thinking about outlines and research and working myself in to a big ass tizzy, when she said, "You can self publish on CafePress." Then she said, "A collection of short stories."

And it was like a light went off.. no.. it was like a giant bolt of lightening came down and bitch slapped some sense in to my dense ass.

I spent some time going through some of my old posts yesterday and realized just how many times people have commented, "You should write a book." I've gotten emails along the same lines, I've just never really thought I could be good enough.

But now? Now I think I'm going to try. I'm going to start compiling a collection of stories about Frog Pond Holler. I'm going to try not to repeat anything that I've already written here, except maybe that story about the vampire critters living in the wall when we lived out in the country.

Anywho... we'll see what happens. Ya'll keep your fingers crossed for me, kay?

Later Taters!


Click the pic to view the video.

Buzz Kills, Mystic Thrills and Trick or Treating for Grown Ups

Dang ya'll. It's supposed to be 83° here in the holler today. Could someone please buy Mother Nature a calendar?

Following are a few tidbits, observations and thoughts for today:

Some state highway department Bubba in an orange vest totally flirted with me at the campground store this morning. He said he sure did like my purdy truck.. held the door open for me and everything. I nearly broke out in to song, doing a hillbilly version of Natural Woman:

"Ya'll make me feeeeeel, ya'll make me feeeel, ya'll make me feeeel like a naaaa-tuuur-ul wo-min.. wo-min.."

Then I came to work and had Lulu point out a big wad of makeup on the side of my face and totally buzz-killed my feminine elation. I'll spend the rest of the day wondering if the purdy eyed highway worker was checking out my cosmetic malfunction when I thought he was flirting.


~*~

I've been reading "The Secret of Shambahla" by James Redfield, it's part of the "Celestine Prophecy" series. Anywho, this one covers synchronicity and how your negative thoughts can influence your life, etc.

The reason I'm bringing this up is.. well.. ya'll know how much I like using the phrase "festering boil on the left ass cheek?"

Well guess what I have. What? That's too much information? Sorry.. besides Lulu, ya'll are the only friends I've got and believe me.. she's already gotten a very graphic description of everything involved with the fore mentioned blemish.

So deal with it.

Although I'm certain that manifesting large, festering boils wasn't what James Redfield had in mind, I think it's kinda funny.. well.. when I'm not squirming in my office chair.. trying to find a comfortable position. This damned thing is like Mount Vesuvius.



~*~
On the way home from the fair Saturday, after we stopped at the Exxon/Subway for dinner, the Amazon and I ran by the grocery store to pick up one or two things (ya know.. milk, bread, enormous over iced cinnamon rolls from the bakery for breakfast Sunday morning.) When I got to the checkout, there was a pile.. nay.. a mound of coupons piled on the counter. The store prints coupons based on what you buy and the information they have stored about you on their computer, but apparently most people don't take them.

"If you see any coupons you want, help yer self. It keeps spittin' them out, but nobody wants the dang things" said the cashier. I'm sure she noticed my drooling at the sight of all of them.

"Can I have them all?" I asked.

The cashier grinned, grabbed a plastic bag and tossed them all in. It was better than trick-or-treating.

Now I need another whole pack of those trading card sheets. I've got coupons coming out of my ears.


~*~
Anywho.. I reckon I need to get back to work. Ya'll have an awesome Tuesday. We'll talk again soon!

Later Taters!

David Blaine, Satan and Bubbles

I stopped at the dollar store on the way home for lunch yesterday. We were almost out of dog food and we needed a loaf of bread.. if I was going to fix any lunch. I didn't bother getting a cart, which meant I was standing in line with a big ass bag of kibble slung over my shoulder while Irene, Erlene and the cashier, Wanda got butt cheek deep in a discussion over David Blaine.

Irene dropped three bags of kitty litter on the counter as she said, "I seen him do things that sent chills up my spine. Lookey here.. it's a'givin' me the goose flesh just talkin' 'bout it!" She extended her tattooed arm, evidence of the life she had before she found Jesus and the imagined goose bumps she seemed to think were there.

"I think it's spirits does them things. That feller's in cahoots with them. He's a spiritual CAHOOTER!!!" Wanda added, her eyes growing great big as she clutched the crucifix at her neck.

The line had come to a screeching halt while the local ladies discussed David Blaine's spiritual connections. There was a tourist in front of me, the look in her eyes making it clear that she just wanted to pay for her box of Pop Secret and get the hell out of there.

She looked afraid.

Erlene began to add her opinion, a stern look of seriousness washing over her face, much like the look she gets as she preaches the evils of putting on short dresses and getting all liquored up when she's teaching her Sunday school class. "If you ask me, that feller is in alliance with the devil," she said. Irene and Wanda nodded in agreement. Erlene then looked around, scouring the front of the store before she continued in a loud whisper, "That look he has about him, neither black nor white, runnin' 'round shirtless, that sinful look of temptation in his eyes.." she paused for a second then continued, "I've often thought that he may indeed be the dark prince, Mephistopheles... the devil himself!"

Wanda and Irene both turned white as ghosts.

Me? I just wanted them to shut up and get a move on. My lunch break is only an hour long and hell.. that bag of dog food was getting heavier by the second.

And honestly.. who knew David Blaine conjured up such devilish sexual tension among the Sunday school clique? Personally, I think he's a hack.. but anywho..

I eventually did make it back to the Asylum to finish the work day. Around three o'clock, Bubbles began her daily cud chewing gum smacking. I had New Age Native American drum and flute music playing through buds at ear bleed levels, but I still couldn't drown her out. Imagine my absolute fecking glee when I over heard this exchange between her and Bossman:

Bubbles, sickeningly sweet asks: "Mr. Bossman, would you kindly come over here and sign my time card?"

Bossman, with his usual lack o' emotion: "Yeah, you sure it's right?"

Bubbles: "Oh yes sir! Well.. at least I don't think I lied about anything! HAHAHAHA! I'm such a liar.. HAHAHAHAHA! Oh My!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Bossman, signs the card and hands it back to Bubbles.. then adds, "You're sure chomping the hell out of that gum this afternoon, aren't ya?"

Bubbles was quiet for a second then says, "Thank you sir for your signature!!"

I tried not to laugh out loud, but I'm pretty sure a snort or two escaped my face.

It's amazing what little things can make your day, isn't it?

Ya'll have a great Friday.

Later Taters!

Stacking Rocks, Brendan Fraser and Learning to Listen Again

There's a mild chill in the air across the holler this morning. The creek is raging wildly through town, the result of the huge storms we had last night. It's the sort of morning that gets your blood pumping, simply by walking out in to the day.

I was going to tell ya'll about my Scary Hillbilly Town adventure Friday night, but I need to hold off until some ongoing drama plays itself out. I hate to tell a story without an ending. Instead, I'm going to share something a little different, at least to those of you who've recently joined the ranks of Hidden Mahala readers.

Saturday afternoon I kneeled on the floor in front of my hope(less) chest and removed the lid to my little desert-garden-terrarium-thingie. As I watered the plants, taking care not to get the cacti wet, drizzling the liquid from my china tea cup, I watched how the water hitting the rocks made them twinkle in the sunlight. In my mind's eye, an image from a television show flashed across the screen in my head. I saw a man on the beach in San Francisco, stacking rocks, creating temporary statues at the edge of the surf. In the next instant, I saw the little house here in town where the Indian guy lives, whose yard is lined with little stone stacks which seem to defy gravity.

Feeling inspired, I began to build tiny statues from the pebbles lying around in my cactus garden. I wasn't able to go very high and most of them slid off three or four times before I got it right, but it was kinda neat.. and weird. I wondered how I'd explain myself if the Amazon walked in seeing her mother 42 years old, sitting in the floor playing with rocks and dirt.

Yesterday, I was taking advantage of the Amazon being at work, sitting on the couch with my feet propped up, hogging the t.v. remote all to myself. The brain candy I'd settled on had gone off and was followed by a new Snoop Dog video, which was all retro and freaky, cracking me up. I started flipping through the movie channels.. then I stopped.

The scene was Brendan Fraser, methodically stacking rocks.

I've seen the movie before,"Still Breathing," it's what the Amazon refers to as "one of those fate movies" that I love. Sort of along the same lines as "Serendipity" or even "Dragonfly," that everything happens for a reason. I settled in and watched the whole thing again. No way am I going to ignore such an obvious sign from the Universe to pay attention.

There are a bunch of parallels in this movie to some stuff going on in my life right now, stuff I can't really go in to. I'll just say this: It's exactly what I needed to see, right when I needed to see it.

That's how the Universe works, we just have to learn to pay attention.

Ya'll have a butt kickin' Monday.

Spiritual Nudge

The other day I told ya'll about the series of three dreams I had Tuesday night. One of those dreams involved a submarine and it kept me sort of addled for most of the day. Yesterday at work things were really slow and I got bored, so I started looking at news sites. I didn't "search" for anything, I just went to MSNBC, FOX and CNN to see what was going on in the world. For some reason I decided to check the Big City newspaper site. I did run a search for it, I don't have it saved anywhere because I never read it. The only time they mention anything about Podunk County is when some yeehaw from way back on the mountain who's parents met at the family reunion spots a UFO or Bigfoot.

Anywho, I went to the main page and a link to an article caught my eye. As I read it, chills ran up my back and my scalp tingled. I printed the article and took in to Lulu. All I said to her was, "Remember the dreams I had the other night?"

After she read it, she looked at me and said, "Okay, that's weird. Even for you."

I don't know what it means, I stopped wasting my time trying to second guess the meanings of such things a long time ago. When I'm meant to know, I will.

To alot of people, stories like this sound flaky. I used to feel the same way. Back in 2001 I had a sort of awakening and really began paying attention to my dreams and the signs and messages around me. I don't worry as much nowadays about what people may think or how goofy I sound when I touch on the subject of spirituality. I figure, if I feel compelled to write it there must be one person who needs to read it. It's okay if the rest of you think I'm a little wacko.

Violence and Inner Peace.. Finding Balance

Around 7:00 or so, the Amazon decided to go in her room and do God only knows what look at jobs on her laptop, so after I ran some hot dishwater and put a few things in to soak, I took advantage of the situation, claimed both couch and remote and began surfing. In the past few days I've mentioned how I'm trying to get my head back to a spiritual place, find inner peace and ya know... stop fantasizing about strangling my co-workers with assorted pieces of office equipment. (Have you ever considered the damage you could do with a hole puncher? I mean, some people go straight for the paper cutter, but taking a heifer down with a hole puncher.. that there is an accomplishment.)

Anywho, I surfed through the channels, past the sitcom reruns, past the game shows, when I heard a voice.. a deep male voice.. Dr. Wayne Dyer. I first discovered Dr. Dyer during a PBS fund drive during a time that I was searching, questioning and trying to figure everything out. It only took about five minutes for me to be completely captivated by everything this man had to say. It was as if the principles he taught, were concepts and ideas that I already knew and only needed to be reminded of. This particular show was a new one, based on his book Change Your Thoughts - Change Your Life: Living the Wisdom of the Tao. I turned the set up a bit and went to the kitchen to finish up those few dishes while I listened, when in walked the Amazon. She plops down on the couch, takes the remote and exclaims, "Kyle XY!"

"Uh no.. Wayne Dyer."

"Excuse me.. it's Monday night, Kyle XY."

"I've not seen this one! WAYNE DYER!"

"Kyle XY," she mutters, grinning as she changes the channel. I walked back over to the sink, washed a few plates and made a few idle threats in her general direction. I'd have put up a fight but I'm sure it'll be back on this weekend, probably before she gets up.

And impaling my child's forehead with the universal remote kinda goes against everything Dr. Dyer teaches.

Of Lizards and Motorcycles

Geeze o' Pete it's farkin' hot. I don't like the heat. Once the temperature gets to around 90° outside, my air conditioner just doesn't cut it. To make matters worse, apparently the hose that drains the moisture from the central air unit is clogged up and water is backing up and flooding the hallway. Fun times here in Frog Pond Holler!

Now that I've got the whining out of the way...

Thursday, as I was working my little behind off (hush ... I was to) the urge for a cigarette became the only thing I could think about. I quit in January and most of the time it doesn't bother me anymore, but occasionally it hits and I could eat a pack of Basic Lights. There are still two people in the office who smoke and sometimes I get a whiff of nicotine, especially when the GM comes in from sneaking one and decides to waller me around and call me his angel (what? ya'll didn't think it was my work ethic that keeps me employed did ya?)

When the urge hits for a cigarette I go outside on the steps and watch the birds, take a few deep breaths and try to focus on something else. On Thursday, as I stood out there leaning against the railings, I spotted something moving in the mulch. My first reaction was that it was a snake, because I'm paranoid that way. I think everything is a snake at first. I soon realized it was a lizard, one of those cute little blue tailed ones. I watched him scurry around looking for bugs then run cross the steps in front of me. I had my camera with me but he wouldn't stay still long enough for me to get a shot. I kept an eye on him until he disappeared in a hole behind the concrete step.

I didn't give it much thought at the time, there's no tellin' what kind of wildlife you'll see out there. The next day, when I'd been sitting at my desk for too long and needed to stretch my legs, I went back outside and stood on the steps to get some fresh air. I leaned against the railing and glanced down at something I saw moving by the steps. There, poking it's little head out from the hole, was a lizard just like the one I'd seen the day before. He looked around for a second, then scurried along the mulch running back and forth looking for bugs then disappeared around the corner of the building.

Now, I don't know for sure if it was the same lizard, but it would still seem to be a big coinki dink to see one in the exact same spot I'd seen one the day before, regardless if it were the same one or not. That is, if you believe in coincidences.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how I've been out of touch with things of a spiritual nature. I used to pay attention to signs and dreams but for the past few months I guess my head hasn't been in the right place. So when I saw the lizard two days in a row, I Googled the meaning of the lizard totem. From http://www.linsdomain.com/totems/pages/lizard.htm I found this:

Lizard medicine is the shadow side of reality where your dreams are reviewed before you manifest them physically.

If you have a Lizard totem, listen to our own intuition above anyone else's.Pay attention to your dreams for they show us what we do not perceive when awake.Dreams are shadows showing your fears and hopes.Make a dream log and record your dreams. Look for your symbolic and reoccurring dreams and study them carefully.
Lizard can also teach you to become more detached in life.Sometimes it is necessary to separate yourself from others to accomplish what is necessary.Lizard helps you awaken the ability for objective detachment.It can show you how to break from the past.

Well, in the past couple of weeks I've dreamed about staying at a campground for motorcyclists on the beach and having to take a riding test to prove I rode well enough to join the volunteer security.. thingie. I've also had this recurring theme surrounding bakeries and had someone in a dream teaching me how to physically manifest objects in my hand.

And on that note, I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll let ya'll draw your own conclusions.