Gotta Get the Last Word!

I got a call on my house phone today from Cleveland Tn. Most of the time if it just lists the city and state, I don't answer it. But I had just parked my broomstick and was in just the right mood.... so I picked up the phone and in my witchy voice said, "I don't know anyone in Cleveland, TN!" They hung up. An hour or so later the phone rang again.... this time it was all 0's. Now anyone in their right mind would not answer such a call...but I was on a smarty pants roll and decided to do the same as I did on the previous call. I picked up the phone and before I could say my spill, that Hussy said, "Goodbye." I just know it was the same person that called earlier from Cleveland, TN wanting to have the last word.

 Now if you grew up with brothers and sisters, you know how important it is to get the last word. And you also know the feverish determination that takes over your body when someone else gets the last word. You just DON'T let that happen! The battle is on! Each retort raises the ante as you savor that "Gotcha last" taste in your mouth accompanied by that smirk across your face. You are the reigning champ. But don't let your guard down...they are waiting for the right opportunity, then they are going to ambush you. And, they may even call in reinforcements but that is not a problem. You see, I grew up in a large family and we were Olympic champs at this game. So bring it on Cleveland, TN 423-464-7326 and 000-000-0000! I am prepared...got my whistle out and I'm ready. Game On!

Thank God For Stretchy Pants

It is after he had been incapacitated with hip pain for the past several days, Charles, known otherwise as King Of Patience, stated that he felt like he could ride in the car and would like to have some catfish and coleslaw to eat. I would be lying if I told you I didn't like catfish, and I didn't jump at the chance to partake of some vittles that I didn't have to cook myself. I immediately rattled off the restaurant choices before he changed his mind. We could go to the Riverview Restaurant in Ashland City, Cracker Barrel, or the Catfish House out across the river. I knew the ride to Ashland City would not be too comfortable for someone with sciatic nerve pain so I suggested the Catfish House. Guess it is only fair that I get to choose since I am the chauffeur.

Before he could agree...or disagree, I exited to change into something a bit more presentable...my red stretchy pants. I own about 10 pairs of black ones but I save my red pair for special occasions. I quickly changed, shot a spray of hair spray, and smeared on a little lipstick. You know at my age it is a waste of time to do much else. I grabbed my purse, checked to make sure I had my cell phone, and out the door we went. We arrived at the Catfish House, exited the CRV and started up the long sidewalk. It was a little on the crowded side, but several people were leaving and several were behind us, so I felt sure there would be little or no waiting time. As we progressed toward the door, I double-checked the remote lock on the CRV, pressing that little button until I heard the horn honk, assuring me that it was locked. I have a habit of putting my keys in my pocket so that I can easily access them when I am ready to leave. I have spent 15 minutes before, digging in my purse looking for my keys. I have even had to dump it before I could retrieve them, so in the pocket they go. I went to shove my keys in my poc...ket... my pocket... but the pocket wasn't there! I knew I wasn't dreaming.... these pants have pockets! I began to frisk myself to see where the pocket had gone. As inconspicuously as I could, I looked down to check to be sure that I had not put my pants on wrong side out. You don't want to call a lot of attention to yourself standing in front of a crowded restaurant wearing your red stretchy pants. That is when I discovered that in my haste, I had put my red stretchy pants on backwards! To avoid humiliation in a situation like this, it is far more cool to act like that is the way they are supposed to be. You know styles these days will allow about anything. I straightened up, pulled my top down over my front pockets that were now on my backside, and played it off. I have to tell you, though, it is a rude awakening when you put your pants on backwards and they fit just as well as they do frontward. I guess that explains why every step I took, my knees wanted to go back the other way.

I Need Help!

I need help! I take Leigh out every Saturday morning for fun and grocery shopping. About 3 weeks ago we grocery shopped and unloaded the car when we got back to her home. Well...we THOUGHT we unloaded it all anyway. I had a car seat in the back and somehow the half gallon of milk and carton of egg beaters slid behind the car seat and we missed them. That would be the week that we had the record high temperature. By Thursday, a strange smell hit me when I got in the car to go home. I checked my feet to see if perhaps my failing eyesight had missed something significant and it was clinging to the bottom of my shoe. The smell was overpowering and by the time I got home I was about ready to make my own contribution to the already unpleasant atmosphere. That is when I decided to move the car seat to see what had crawled in my car and died. Both the milk and the carton of egg beaters had exploded. It smelled like a bag of rotten potatoes. And if you have ever smelled rotten potatoes you know what I am talking about.

I vacuumed out the car, shampooed, sprayed, and drove 70 miles and hour with all my windows down. Nothing helped. On Saturday when I took Leigh out again, her staff covered their noses then whipped out their perfume/body fragrance and sprayed each other. It just happened to be cold that day....too cold to ride with the windows down. Now think about taking a bag of rotten potatoes and spraying it with cheap perfume and you can imagine what it smelled like then. I prayed for red lights so I could roll down my window while we stopped.

I went to Walmart and purchased a deodorizer for the car and saturated the site of the explosion. Have you ever been trapped near someone who failed to take a bath but thought they could spray a little cologne and no one would know? I'm becoming paranoid...I feel that the aroma saturates my clothing and sticks to me every time I get out of the car. I study facial expressions of anyone that gets near to see if they have gotten a whiff and have detected from where it came.

Anyone who knows Leigh has been made aware of her keen sense of smell. She doesn't cull her adjectives when describing an aroma that tickles her nose or crosses her mind. I shall not repeat her description of the scent that has invaded my car.

If there is a positive to this, I doubt King of Patience will be taking my car and hauling his buddies on a golf trip and leaving me his old truck to drive anytime soon.

Any suggestions for solving this disaster would be most appreciated.