His Pain In The Back Is My Pain In The.....

I pulled in the driveway Wednesday evening and there was my husband heading toward the barn. He was doing some slow, pathetic, Igor-like shuffle. (right foot step, left foot drag) As I approached him from the back he did a gradual full-body turn to face me. I was half expecting to see both of his arms dangling limply in front of him, but I wasn't that lucky. Igor said that he had hurt his back while hauling off the trash.

Once the animals were fed and we had returned to the house, he lost his ability to move without screaming like a little girl, which caused the dog to worry. He needed help to sit. He needed help to stand. He needed snacks. He needed the TV remote. He needed the phone. He needed a pillow. He needed something to drink. I needed something to DRINK!!! Life is never easy for me when Igor suffers an injury.

Thursday morning I left him propped up on one end of the couch, with the phone, remote and a cup of coffee, all within easy reach. I rushed off to squeeze in an hour and a half of work before returning to take him to the doctor. Unfortunately, patients is not at all a virtue that I possess. We were already going to be late for the appointment and it was taking forever and a day to get him loaded into the truck. I used every bit of restraint that I could muster to refrain from cramming him the rest of the way into the seat in order to slam the door! During our five mile commute every bump in the road was met with either whimpering, or some high pitched, not-of-this-Earth sound. It just seems weird when a big, deep-voiced man suddenly sings soprano.

When we entered the doctors office I felt my irritation steadily rise as the receptionist, who has always been unfriendly and short with me, suddenly become bubbly and chatty when Igor shuffled through the door. I managed to smile and chat along with her, only because it was satisfying to visualize my fist connecting with her mouth. It was also amusing to imagine the look on her face if she only knew how many octaves Igor's voice could climb.

A shot in the back and some high-powered pain medication seemed to provide a miraculous recovery that night, but Friday morning brought more shuffling and more shrieking. It is now Saturday morning, he says that he thinks his back is getting worse, and I have begun eating his pain pills. Why do I keep picturing him hopping up from the couch, sprinting to the refrigerator and (upon hearing my key unlocking the door) resuming the Igoresque stance?

The day after the injury was sustained, I asked him if he was he was tossing one of the really heavy bags of trash into the dumpster and twisted his back as he did so. No. That wasn't what happened. He got hurt while gathering the bag from the bathroom wastebasket....... Think I'll indulge in another pain killer!

I'm Just A Stupid Girl!

One Saturday, when I was working the part time country convenience store job, a slightly scruffy looking, late 20's early 30's couple came in and headed toward the automotive supplies. After a minute or two the man started walking back in the direction of my post behind the counter and said, "Do you have any...." (took one look at me) "Oh, you wouldn't know." It has always amazed me to think a person would make assumptions about what I do or do not know just by seeing my face. I've often wondered if I had a "STUPID" tattoo on my forehead that was only visible to others. I was pretty sure that (in his shallow mind) my lack of a penis severely hindered my ability to answer his question. Despite the fact that I am just a stupid girl, I figured I would humor him a little and find out what it was that I couldn't possibly have known. This is how the conversation went:

Me: What are you looking for?

Scruffy Moron: I need some 2 in1 oil.

Me: You mean 3 in1 oil?

SM: Yeah. That's what I need.

(I take him and the lucky little lady over to the 3 in 1 oil and hand him a can)

SM: No, I need the oil that you mix with gas for a chainsaw.

Me: You want two-cycle engine oil.

SM: Yeah. That's what I want.

To the other end of the isle we went, I handed him the oil and (unable to stop myself) sweetly said, "For a chainsaw you need to mix 2 1/2 ounces of oil per gallon of gasoline, but if you're going to put the saw through heaver than normal use, you might want to use 3 1/2 ounces of oil instead. The saw will smoke a little more and you will loose a little power, but it will keep the engine better lubricated." Resisting the urge to finish it up with, "You ignorant A-hole!" He just mindlessly nodded his head. Another satisfied customer.

Twenty some years ago a wise man told me that he admired my ability to use diplomacy in order to tell someone to go to Hell without them even realizing it until an hour or so later. I'm still at it, John.

Thoughts ~ Some Serious Some Not So

Call: 1-800-IHAVEISSUES Listen to the instructions for leaving a message, which are something like, "Leave a message after the tone", then wait until after the tone to hang up without leaving a message, because you are a total idiot!!!

It annoys me to no end to see people staring down at their feet while they're walking. I mean REALLY are they admiring their shoes or what? Yet, I can't stop watching, because (secretly) I'm hoping they will run head first into something and I wouldn't want to miss that.

I bristle whenever I hear anyone use the word "retarded." (I hate it as much as I hate the "N" word) At one time it was a clinical term and then it became a derogatory term. Regardless the context, it is a word that should be stricken from our vocabularies.

The older I get the more selfish I am with my time.

Recently, two of my friends and I laughed until we cried. It felt SO good!

I love that odd sensation that comes from picking something up that you think is going to be heavy (but it's really not) so your arm and the object, go flying up into the air.

Every spring I get the gardening fever and have grandiose illusions of a lush vegetable garden, but then it gets really hot, I get really lazy and everything goes to Hell in a hand-basket.

This one will make the women jealous and the men say, "EEWWWW!" I don't have to shave my legs all winter long and you can't even TELL! I only shave in the summer, because the breeze blows the little hairs around and tickles my legs. Warm weather is just around the corner...time to sharpen the straight razor.

I believe that when someone tells you they have had no regrets in life, they're either lying to you or lying to themselves. Regrets are a part of life. We all have them. Shut up!

I'm pretty sure that people, who don't appreciate animals, suffer from some sort of mental disorder.

Is a green arrow just too much for some people to contemplate? "Oh, green. I know that means 'Go', but its pointing to the left! What am I supposed to DO???"

I'm pretty sure there are a lot of people who think I'm a nicer person than I really am.

I wish I had a "pause" button to stop conversations when I'm getting really pissed off, because several hours later I can think of the best come-backs!

I find myself worrying too much about things that don't matter and too little about things that do. I think the latter is a defense mechanism allowing me to hold on to what tiny shred of sanity I have left.

I'm sort of like a chameleon, in the respect that I can blend in with people from all walks of life. I used to think it was a gift, but more and more I wonder if it's just an indication of what a phony I really am.

It's irritating when someone calls me a cowgirl just because I ride a horse. So,I tell them that I always wanted to be a cowgirl, but I can't be one because my horse is afraid of cows.

Whenever I see a vehicle with one of those "How's my driving? Call 1-800-whatever" signs, I want to call and say something like, "I've never witnessed such incredible driving! AMAZING! Where did you find this guy? Does he give lessons? Never failed to use his signals, came to a full stop at all stop signs, very skillful at merging AND he knew exactly what to do at a green arrow!"

You Always Hurt The Ones You Love The Most (or) Why E-bay Should Offer Free Anger Management

As a little girl I longed for two things: 1. a horse and 2. a Raggedy Ann doll. Neither of which were to become a part of my childhood reality. In retrospect, I can fully understand why horse ownership was not a feasible dream for me. For one thing my parents didn't own enough land to support the needs of a horse, and for another, nobody in the family had a clue how to properly care for one. Sure, it's easy to see why poor little Cindy was not allowed the opportunity to glide through fields full of wildflowers on a sunny summer day, perched upon a shiny black stallion, her hair blowing back in the breeze. (all in slow motion - of course) No. For my parents, fulfilling the "horse" dream was simply not possible. BUT, to deny me the companionship of Raggedy Ann??? We didn't have a lot of money, but SURELY, SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY they could have gotten their mitts on that coveted fabric fantasy of mine!

Anyway, I shoved my unrealized yearnings to the far back corners of my mind and before I knew it I was forty-one years old. And it was in my 41st year that I met a man, who I would later marry. Guess what! He had a HORSE!!! And before long I had a horse of my very own. Along with that horse came all of the gliding through fields full of wildflowers, hair blowing back in the breeze stuff.  Well, when Christmas came that year, I found myself shopping for a present for my  true Love's 3 year old granddaughter. Browsing through the toy store, without any idea of what to buy for little Hannah, I turned down an isle full of dolls and there before my eyes were two beauties with flaming red hair!  One for Hannah and one for ME!!!  Now, I like nothing more than to point out a good "morel of the story" whenever there is one. So, the morel of the story is: Good things come to those who wait.
For almost a decade my cherished Annie sat on a folk-artsy wooden rocking horse. That is until the other day when the horse suffered a broken leg (rocker) in a freak "husband tripping over it" accident. Poor Annie was rendered horseless. Her smile even seemed to fade a bit and thus served as a reminder of poor, horseless little Cindy. It just broke my heart!  What was I to do?  Woe is me.  Woe is Annie. Then it hit me...e-bay! The answer was obvious.  Surely, I could find a rocking horse, suitable for Annie's needs, on e-bay! 

The search began and after about an hour of looking at plastic rocking horses, wooden rocking horses and even rocking horses with tails missing, there it was! The perfect horse for my perfect doll was a buckskin (natural wood finish) with a flaxen mane and dowel handles sticking out from each side of his head. A less sleek version of her last steed, but what made him an even better fit for Annie was the fact that his saddle was wider and thus would keep her centered rather than slumped over to one side and looking as though she was riding all liquored-up.
Bidding on e-bay is a game in which you don't want to show your hand too soon. In other words, just because an item has obtained zero bids does NOT mean that no one has their eye on it. They could be lying in wait to bid at the last possible second to grab it up at the lowest price. (which was exactly what I was going to do to get my Annie a new ride) The time for the bid ending was near. I positioned myself in front of my computer screen, fingers on the keyboard, and.....then.....it.....happened.....out-bid!!! Someone (much quicker than myself) had swooped in and scarfed up Annie's new dream horse! The NERVE!!! Several obscenities escaped between clenched teeth as I slammed the keyboard drawer back. Stomping through the living room I went, mumbling some not-so-nice things about whoever that jackass of a horse thief was, when she caught my eye.  There on the bookshelf sat my beloved Annie, looking at me through her button eyes and smiling that wonderful smile, as though all was right with the world........I punched her square in the face.






...and that, Folks, is why ebay should offer free anger management!

You Want To Know How I Am?

I am on a personal mission to make people think before using the standard, "How are you?" greeting, which (to me) sounds more and more like fingernails on a chalkboard. Talk about over-used! It's thrown out there time after time, day after day and (quite frankly) I'm sick of it! You know and I know that the individual asking probably doesn't give a rodents rectum how anybody is. And don't you think it's a rather intimate question to be asking a total stranger, anyway? What if (God forbid) everybody decided to give honest answers? Nobody really wants to know how you are, so why the Hell are they asking??? My pet "How are you" peeve has to do with the dumbass who doesn't know when to quit asking! (we've all had this happen) You meet someone in the hallway, they say, "How are you?" to which you reply, "Fine. How are you?" (then it happens) they say, "I'm fine. You?" Theoretically, that conversation could go on forever.

On a recent trip to the grocery store I was minding my own business in the canned vegetable isle, when Ms Grocery Store Manager came marching toward me with another shopper in tow. I knew it was coming, the same conversation (only conversation) I've had with that woman a hundred times. "How are you?", she asked. I cordially replied, "Fine." She stopped about five feet from where I was standing and helped the other shopper find something, all of which took about three seconds. As Ms Manager marched back by me it happened...the SECOND "How are you?" A chill ran up my spine as the fingernails slid down the board. In my mind I had her by the throat and was slamming the back of her head into the canned peas as I shouted, "Why didn't you pay attention the first time! Stop making me repeat myself!" Actually, I just gave the same cordial, "Fine," and waited for her to get out of ear-shot then added, "...you stupid bitch!"

I've been thinking that we should have some responses at the ready for these "double askers." The responses that I came up with fall into three basic categories, 1. Smart-Ass Reply (the one we all know and love) 2. TMI Reply (give them too much information, because they wanted to know SO badly they asked you twice) 3. Scary/Crazy Reply (this one is designed to make them think twice before asking the first time)

1.Smart-Ass Reply (while not very funny these are great to use in a hurry)

• "My! Don't we have a short memory?"

• "Is there an echo in here...in here...in here..."

• "Get off my back!"

• "I'm better than nothing, but I hear you're not!"

2.TMI Reply (makes everyone uncomfortable and that's always fun)

• "I'm hopeful that, once I get the wart removed, he'll love me again."

• (wiggle around and scratch a bit) "I'm uncomfortable. They're really bad this time of year."

• In a whisper: "I'm terrified to make any sudden moves. The squirts. Like water only dark and smelly." (pretend to nervously suppress cough)

• "I'm SO excited! The hubby just got one of those 'implant' things..."

3.Scary/Crazy Reply (requires a little acting ability and should only be used on strangers)

• "The voices are telling me that I'm ok. Why? What are they telling you?"

• "I'm pissed! My lawyer just told me there's no way he can convince a jury that the axe slipped out of my hand over and over and over..."

• "Well, my dog says that I'm a lot more fun since I'm not on my medication."

• "Actually, I'm hungry. Did you know that human flesh tastes like chicken?"

How am I? Well, since you asked...

You Can't Get There From Here

I was walking through the parking lot at my workplace the other day when a car pulled up next to me and stopped. Behind the wheel was an older gentleman. When I say, "older" I don't mean an OLD man, just older. We exchanged the usual pleasantries before he asked if I could tell him where the Tags Office is located. (for those of you who don't live in the south, the "Tags Office" is where we go to purchase the little stickers that affix to our license plates) Well, as a frequent visitor of the Tags Office, giving those directions would be a piece of cake...or so I thought. The interaction went something like this:

Me: "Yes. Just go back out to this road, take a right and when you come to the third stoplight take another right then an immediate left..."

Older Gentleman: (shaking his head) "That man he give me crazy directions. Crazy! He tell me to come down here. Ok. I come to the first stoplight then what?"

Me: "You just go straight. The second stoplight is sort of a main intersection where the liquor store is..."

OG: "Oh, the Tags Office is up town! I need to go up town!"

Me: "No. You would have to turn at the second light to go up town, but you don't want to turn at that light. You don't turn until you get to the third light. At the third light make a right and then a left. There's a restaurant there and...oh...I can't think of the name of it."

OG: "BB&T?"

(BB&T is a bank) A feeling of helpless frustration began creeping over me.

Me: "No."

From the passenger seat the man produced a flier with a large, shiny picture of a vehicle license plate and said, "This is what I'm looking for." He turned the flier over, pointed to an advertisement on the back then added, "Nationwide Insurance!"

At that point I knew life was just not being fair to this nice man.

Me: "Do you want to buy a sticker for your car?"

OG: "Yep! That's what I want."

Me: "Ok. Go down here and turn right at the third stoplight then turn left. The Tags Office is in a little strip mall right next to Dollar Tree."

OG: "Dollar Tree? I know where Dollar Tree is! So, I go to Dollar Tree and go up the hill..."


Me: "Well, you just go to Dollar Tree, park your car in the parking lot out front and you will find the Tags Office right next door."

OG: "Thank you, Mame. You have a nice day."

With a heavy heart, I watched him drive away and I wondered if he would find the Tags Office, Dollar Tree or even the third stop light. I pictured him in another part of town, telling yet another stranger, "That women she give me crazy directions. Crazy!"

Is That A Shotgun Sticking Out Of Your Trench Coat Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

This post is dedicated to store owners, Bob and Jean. Two Of my favorite people.

It was December 27, 1997 and I was way late for work at my second job in the local Mom and Pops convenience store. I normally went in at 1:00 on Saturdays, but I had a funeral to attend (in the rain) so, it was 5:00 PM when I arrived. Should have waited till 7:00.

Let me paint a little picture of the lay-out of the store. Two cash registers side by side facing the back of the store. To the right of the register on the right is a counter and vice versa. In other words, if you're standing facing a register your back is to the door. That is how Carrol and I were standing on that cold, rainy, one customer in the whole damn store night. I was on the right and Carrol was on the left.

Around 6:15 my partner had just fixed himself what must have been one Hell of a sandwich and we were standing there chatting while he was devouring his creation.That's when I heard the telltale "squeak" of the door. (apparently a sound that Carrol did not detect, because he was eating and talking) Anyway, I turned my head to greet whoever was entering, but all I could see was a black trench coat opening up and the barrel of a .410 shotgun being raised to point at me. Immediately, the accomplice of Mr. Trench Coat scurried around to my side of the counter, waving two pistols at me. Well, my mama didn't raise no fool. I was quick to figure out that this was a stick up! At the same time I'm thinking, Two pistols? Really? Isn't that over-kill? Do ya think if you only had one I would balk and say, "Oh, Hell no, Mr. One Pistol, you're not gettin' a penny from this old girl. If you had TWO pistols...now THAT would be a different story!"

Believe it or not, I actually had the presence of mind to remember how to open the cash register and I did just that! Then, without even being told, I began to extract money from said register, beginning with the 20's and working my way down to the smaller, less desirable bills. Two Pistols had to lay one pistol on the counter in order to free up a hand to take money from me. Money that I just couldn't wait to give him!


Somewhere in all of this, with my left eye I caught a glimpse of Mike (our only non-gun-wielding customer) walk up to Carrol's side of the counter and then quickly retreat to the back of the store. (guess Mike's mama didn't raise no fool, either)

About the time I was digging the 5's out of the drawer, I heard a sound. It was the sound of words being filtered through bread and other sandwich material. For God's sake! Carrol was still eating that damn sandwich and talking to me, completely oblivious to the fact that we were being robbed at gunpoint!

So, after handing Two Pistols the less desirable one dollar bills, I stepped behind Carrol and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and (I swear this is the truth) said, "What's goin' on?" (I'm guessing this is where he FINALLY put the sandwich down) Well, upon noticing a man standing there pointing a gun at his head, Carrol began doing what I had just done, emptying a cash register. He started with the less desirable one dollar bills, but something tells me that Two Pistols didn't even notice.

At some point, while Carrol was handing over cash, I noticed that Two Pistols was having a hard time cramming all that cash into his pockets. So, being the customer-oriented girl that I am, I asked him if he wanted a bag. He didn't, but (being the customer-oriented girl that I am) I wasn't taking "No" for an answer. I asked again. He still didn't want a bag, but at least I tried. In retrospect, I suppose he may have thought that I could be the second Annie Oakley and that maybe there was a gun hidden down there where the bags were kept. Actually there was a sawed-off shotgun down there, but that was the farthest thing from my mind. The ONLY thing that interested me was getting them out of the store without Carrol or myself having to eat any lead. Besides, I'm pretty sure Carrol was already was already full from his sandwich.

Under the watchful eye of Mr. Trench Coat, who was still poised at the door behind us with his trusty .410, my partner handed the last stack of bills over to Two Pistols. Then came the moment that I'd been anxiously waiting for...the bad-boy gun-slingers exited the store, without firing off a single round.

This is where Carrol redeemed himself for the sandwich eating and talking during the entire first half of the robbery. As I was hitting the floor and grabbing the phone from under the counter, he snatched a pistol out of a drawer and headed out the door. I remember saying to the 911 operator, "We've just been robbed and there are shots being fired in the parking lot!" That's the only part of the conversation that I can recall, because I was completely consumed with terror and had no idea what was actually transpiring in the parking lot. I know that I was sure relieved when Carrol came back through the door bearing not a single bullet wound.

It seems that, with Carrol firing over their heads the bad boys didn't want to take time to stop and climb into the getaway car, so they just ran right past it and disappeared into the woods. The female driver of the car took off down the road. I suppose she thought the boys would come back out to the highway and that's why she turned around and came back, but upon seeing Carrol out by the road (pistol in hand) she decided that was a bad idea after all. In an attempt to make a quick turn around she pulled into the path of another driver and got T-boned, which disabled her stolen ride. At that point the woods on the other side of the road looked pretty good to her.

The long and short of it is: the girl was apprehended about an hour later and claimed she had no idea that the guys were going to rob the store and she didn't know that the car was stolen. (in her defense, my friends and I always carry our shotguns when we shop in convenience stores...never know when a game bird might fly off a shelf... and it's not unusual for us to drive cars with screwdrivers sticking out of the ignitions, because we tend to loose our keys) Mr. Trench Coat and Two Pistols were arrested several days later. They all were convicted, served time and have since been released.

I had only been working at the store for three months when we were robbed. The next day I showed up for work again and did the same for the next nine years. Did I really say, "My mama didn't raise no fool"???