Hello Peeps! I haven't been able to do anything on this thing for a couple of days. Bummer!
Had a bit of trouble with my wireless router. Bang-your-head-on-the-floor-type trouble.
Our power went off Thursday night. Flickered a time or three, and came back on. We heard on the scanner where they found a transformer that had blown. It was almost midnight so we went to bed.
The next day I couldn't get on-line for heck. T-Bird re-set the router and it worked fine until I shut the computer off. Then, again, NO INTERNET! AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!
Had to re-set the router every time I turned it on. Like I had to hand-crank the service. Bullsugar!

We know what happened now. Found out from a man at the plant where T. works.
His cousin had been out doin' his thing. D.U.I., of course. He hit a power pole with his car.
Was he finished???
Was the party over???
Was it time to call the police and file a report???
Time to go home and sleep it off????
Time to call a tow truck??

NNNNNOOOOO! Since the power pole had the audacity to leap out in front of him, he was rather pissy. So, he backed the car up and rammed it again! Thanks oh-so-much, Dumbass!

Repeated tinkerings with the wireless router fixed my service. The county gave Ding-Dong a cot to sleep on downtown. Power has been restored to all.

I just want to know what kind of car this dude was driving. To be rammed into a pole TWICE, and make it back to his house for the subsequent arrest, it has to be one darned good car! Made in America! Real steel!

I want that car! There's a mailbox with an attitude that needs to be taken down a peg or two......

Please, Fellow Grandmothers, do not flog me for this.

I love my grandchildren. As far as I am concerned, the sun rises and sets in their......uh..........diapers. I am a playhouse-in-the-backyard-of-course-you-can-have-a-cookie-let's-watch-Over-The-Hedge-for-the-third-time-today grandma. A card-carrying member of The Sisterhood.

But please tell the truth. Can you make heads-or-tails (literally) out of these without being told first what's what?


I'm hanging it on the fridge with the alphabet, number, and animal magnets.

I told you I was a real grandma!

'Tis Spring! *Slap the dog and spit in the fire! Winter is outta here! At least in my corner of the world. If you are reading this and you have snow in the yard, hold on, Spring is coming to you, too!
This is a pretty little town when it comes back to life. I like to say it's like this place puts on her Easter bonnet. If anyone remembers Easter bonnets. Did I just give away my age?
I think the dogwoods are my favorite. Hunters around here love it when the dogwoods bloom because it signals the start of turkey season. I don't hunt, but I've already bagged my turkey limit anyhoo. Two husbands are enough.
I found the following poem years ago, and thought I'd pass it on.

A Legend Of The Dogwood Tree

When Christ was on Earth, the dogwood grew
To a towering size with a lovely hue.
It's branches were strong and interwoven
And for Christ's cross it's timbers were chosen.

Being distressed at the use of this wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:

"Not ever again shall the dogwood grow
To be large enough for a tree, and so
Slender and twisted it shall always be
With cross-shaped blossoms for all to see.
The petals shall have bloodstains marked in brown
And in the blossoms center a thorny crown.
All who see it will think of me
Nailed to a cross from a dogwood tree.
Protected and cherished this tree shall be
A reflection to all of my agony."


Have a happy Spring, ya'll!

* Slick note: Slap the dog and spit in the fire. This saying denotes joy and surprise. Mostly surprise.

Hey ya'll. I had an idea for a post on Thursday, but for some reason I didn't get it done. So I was shooting for Friday. Weekend, you know; I had big plans for it. Gonna clean out and wash my car, clean the house, and chill for a while. Blog some. But my plans went to crap at lunch. I found that out at 3:30 when the phone rang.
Daddy called and asked me to come out to the house to help him with Momma. My mother had fallen on the sidewalk downtown and broke her arm. Her right arm, just below the shoulder. Crushed it, actually. She was taken to the hospital by ambulance because Daddy could not get her up, she was in so much pain. All they could get out of the doctor was "fracture". He "ain't from around here", and they could not understand what all he said. I have never seen my mother in so much pain. She said she should have taken the shot for pain at the hospital---- duh!--- but she turned it down. I get hurt like that, I want drugs, People! Lots of 'em! I'll sip morphine from a mason jar if I can get it! I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening helping Daddy help Momma. I think Daddy was wishing she had taken the shot, too. She was a little, uhhh, testy, shall we say? He was trying to be funny, and lighten her mood, but he isn't good at it. I asked her if she could throw something at him left-handed and he said that she couldn't throw with it, but she had no problem slapping him with her left. I hope he was joking, but I didn't go for the details. Saturday me and Youngest went to the store for them and cleaned their house. Her regular doctor said yesterday that this is a serious break, and the surgery is just as serious as the fracture.. He may have to replace the ball in the joint. But he won't know until he goes in.... so I'll be going back to Tifton next Wednesday for her surgery.
Nobody understands why I keep this particular job---I hate it so much---but this is why. If I have to leave I can without much crap about it. That's worth it to me, and I may be taking off a lot in the next few weeks. It kills my finances, but it helps my folks.

On a lighter note:

My husband took Youngest to get a burger while I was at my parents house Friday, since it looked as if they would starve to death before I got home. She ordered a cheeseburger. The girl taking the order asked her if she wanted cheese on it. Now I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed, but, if a person orders a CHEESE-burger, wouldn't that imply that they wanted cheese on it? I'm thinking of going back to that place and ordering a cheeseburger- hold the cheese.

Have you ever had a deep, dark secret? One that would tip your world over if it got out? My granddaughter's babysitter had one. She has been having an affair for a while. I told my daughter that I didn't want the baby caught in the cross-fire when this woman's husband found out. Well.....he found out!
The babysitter and her husband took my grandchild to the Chinese restaurant one evening, and they were talking to her about who loves who. She's three, but carrys on a conversation like a teenager. And uses as much thought as one, but she IS only three, so she has an excuse. She does not have the concept of keeping a secret. The husband says to the baby, "Mimi loves me!" And this little angel looked up at him and said "Uh-uh! Mimi loves Raul!" I'll bet you could have heard a dumpling drop. That was the end of the outing to the Chinese place, the marriage, and the end of that babysitter. I guess she won't keep a snitch! Wonder if she'll keep Raul...........? I didn't like her anyway.

What can one glean from this post? One: old folks don't bounce if you drop them on concrete. Two: toddlers cannot be trusted.

In a comment that I left on another blog, I told how my husband and I got together at Wal-Mart. In housewares. You CAN get it all at Wally-World. Be advised that if you do leave the store with a new relationship, the store is not responsible for accidents or damage.

In 1977 I was in my senior year of high school, and I was dating a drummer. We were out on a date, and he said he had someone he wanted me to meet. Welllllllll............okay. We went to this trailer and were greeted by this guy who had a guitar slung around his neck, and a smirk on his face. And one hostile-looking blonde who was about my age. I'm not very good on a first meeting; I get very nervous. And I was ready to leave.
So this guy with the guitar starts firing questions at me like he was The Music Inquizition. Do I play guitar? No. Do I play keyboards? No. Do I sing? No. Can you play a radio? Well the last question was the last straw! I had made up my mind, and I was thinking that I did not like his friend AT ALL! When we left, he was still smirking, and so was the hostile blonde. But I wanted to keep my drummer-boy happy, so I didn't say anything about it. I even endured a double-date or two with the Ass and his girlfriend. Then the drummer and I parted ways.
Several weeks later, who should I run into in the record store? Yes, I said record store! One of my favorite haunts, and the fact that it was next to a game room didn't hurt. Good-lookin' teenage boys EVERYWHERE! I was unattatched, and I figured there would be some interesting hunting in that area. We girls hunt too, we just hunt different prey, with different weaponry. If your single, you don't have a limit as to how many you can bag. And boys were always in season. I looked up over a counter and there he was. He had been kicked to the curb, surprise, surprise, and he was actually decent. Amazing what a swift kick with a high heel to the ego will change, isn't it? And he asked me out. I had no prospect of a date that weekend, so what the Hell?
I had a blast! He was actually sweet and so much fun to be with! I laughed for the first time in a long time. He took me to the river landing, and we just sat in the car and watched the moonlight on the water. And we talked. That's all. And so we started dating.
We would go out and just ride dirt roads. Sometimes he took me for rides on his motorcycle. Momma must have been praying for us. He took me to clubs and got my underage self in and bought my underage self liquor. He would drop me off in the yard and watch me weave my way to the front door and then he would split. My gallant knight. Left me to fend off Mom and Dad alone if I got caught. Chivalry was almost dead back in '77.
It was my fault when we broke up. I was an idiot and let's let it go at that.

In 14 years I saw him twice. And got dirty looks both times. Didn't even say "hey". I heard about both of his marriages, and I heard about his son's birth.
By 1990 I was divorced with three kids, living in a trailer park and working at the panty factory.

I just read that last line to myself. Good grief!

Anyhoo, I had picked up the kids from the sitter's and was driving to Wal-Mart to get a new trash can and maybe a treat for the kids. And they chose that time to ask for a new Daddy. The oldest was 10, my oldest daughter was 8, and the baby was almost 2 yrs. old. I explained that you don't just go out and find a Daddy at Wal-Mart. I remember saying those words. With great emphasis.
I saw him as I passed him in the aisle, and we just nodded. I figured he was still pissed off. And did not care. I was wrangling three small children. Then I ran into a woman I had known for years and we started talking. I saw him walk by a time or two, but I didn't think much of it ( I found out later that he was waiting for that woman to walk off). After this lady and I finished our talk I was going to the check-out and passed him again. We made eye contact so I thought I should at least say something. I thought he'd just blow it off.
We talked and laughed right there in the aisle until we were both about to die for a smoke. And once again, I hadn't had anything to laugh about in ages. We talked for at least an hour, about our work and our divorces, just everything, with the kids getting tired and wanting to go home. Then talked some more in the parking lot. I gave him my phone number and told him where I lived.
I hadn't been home an hour when he pulled up into the yard. He had showered, shaved, put on clean clothes, and got his supper TO GO. Standing on the steps with a white paper bag in one hand, a jumbo Pepsi in the other, and a smile on his face.

That was sixteen years ago. He's still here.

But I don't blame Wal-Mart.

Anymore.