Archive for June, 2012

You Knew THIS One Was Coming…

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I Cried After the Ruling This Morning

The only time I ever cry is when I’m so pissed off that I am about to make an attempt to beat somebody or something to death with a shovel. Shooting is just not satisfying enough. That’s how I felt about the Obamacare ruling this morning.

I think I’ve reached the last straw, the point where not only do I refuse to pay this tax, but am strongly tempted to tell Washington, D.C. to shove all their rules, regulations and taxes up their ass sideways.

This crazy spending is unsustainable. You know it. I know it. And Obamacare is going to add a HUGE new burden to the taxpayer, who is burdened enough.

I’ll write more if/when I can get my temper under control.

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Thursday Morning Dance Break

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What’s the Plan, Mom?

SwampDaughter called to find out what the plan was for getting the kids Friday and for next week. Plan? I told her that it was a little bit difficult making actual plans on account of we didn’t know if we could even get on the highway Thursday or Friday. We’ll wait until later in the week to make a decision about whether the kids need to be here Thursday evening, or we’ll get them Friday morning. We will go with the flow. I’m a leaf on the wind.

SwampDaughter HATES going with the flow. She doesn’t think I’m a leaf on the wind. She says people like me make people like her CRAZY. She wants an actual plan in writing (and probably signed in blood) in triplicate IN ADVANCE of what we are going to do. Well. I wish somebody would tell that aggravating tropical storm about that. We have plans, damnit, and you better not interfere if you know what’s good for you!

Okay, here’s the plan, then. In the event of even more widespread flooding that leaves the road under water, I’ll walk to SwampSon’s house, borrow his canoe, carry it on my head a mile or so to where the water in the road begins, and canoe back home. She can drive to the edge of the water, put life jackets on the kids, and SwampMan and I will canoe to the water’s edge and collect them.

Another plan could be that we can tie a rope to an innertube and toss that across to her, she can put the kids in, and we’ll pull ’em back across to us. They’d probably like that.

How’s that for a couple of plans?

Or (alternative plan) we could assume that we’ll be able to get to Jacksonville by 7 a.m. on Friday morning to pick them up, and revise if necessary, which has been our plan all along.

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Lull in the Rain? D’oh, Nevermind!

I was taking advantage of a lull in the rain to move a couple of the pastured chicken pens. The bantam pen had water higher than bantams are tall, so they very wisely elected to stay on their roosts until I came to the rescue. The white rocks are taller (and their pen was on a little higher land) so they’re flapping about in a *very* pissed off fashion in water up to their behinds.

I got the bantams moved but it started raining again before I could get the rocks moved. I had to rescue a rooster and hen who had unwisely decided to brave the water. The water had risen to neck deep in just a short period of time! I just waded out and carried them to safety two and three at a time, and put them in a dog kennel under shelter. Yeah, they’re crowded, but they’re not drowned. I hope they appreciate that.

There are huge rafts of floating fire ants out there, and boy are THEY pissed. I am covered in welts!

I waded out to the brush pile where a hen with newly hatched chicks had taken refuge. Two chicks made it through the night. I’d like to carry them to safety for only the top of the brush pile is above water, but they (chicks) hide lower in the brushpile when I arrive. If I try to catch them, they’ll drown, and probably their mother, too. I put a piece of plywood on the brushpile and put some chick feed on it. At least it will be a more stable platform for the momma and the chicks and, if it gets deeper, perhaps they’ll float.

A mother hen in a pen with seven chicks is okay, but three of the chicks died in the night. The four remaining chicks and the mother hen were soaking wet this morning.

I’ve been waiting for the rain to stop before I move the chicken pen because I’m runnin’ short of dry clothing, but it doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen soon. I need to do a load of laundry now anyway because the water is overtopping my boots and every time I come inside, I need a pair of dry socks.

SwampMan had $20 worth of game bird chow out at the barn that I bought for him. HAD. I came inside and asked him why he left the turkey food where Breeze could get it? He said the horse couldn’t get to it from where he left it. AND he had it hid inside a metal trash can with a lid on top. *sigh* Yeah, she could and did. He just needs to accept the fact that Breeze is smarter* than he is, so he better keep his feed locked up. You’d think he’d have learned this by now.

*Well, Breeze probably couldn’t rebuild an engine unless there was feed involved. Then I wouldn’t put it past her. She can turn doorknobs, lift gate latches, drink from a beer bottle or a Coke can, stick her head through a truck window and steal the cold drink outta the cold drink holder, and take the lids offa garbage cans and strew the trash after eating stuff of interest, but I dunno about turning a wrench. He better keep his tools locked up.

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It is WET Outside!

It has been raining steadily all night thanks to Tropical Storm Debby. The last time I watched the news, we were getting rain at the rate of one to two inches per hour. The water in my front yard is about one to eight inches deep; the water in the side yard is one to four inches deep. The water in the sheep pasture is only about one inch deep.

I just shut the gate that I’d left open all night in the sheep pasture *just in case* the water started rising in the swamp and they needed to make a quick exit out of their barn down the alley to another, higher pasture while I was asleep.

I dunno why I left the gate open. Sheep are not known for their ability to make good decisions under pressure. I could walk out there and their barn interior could be totally inundated with just their heads sticking outta the water, and they would vigorously oppose my removing them from their barn, which is their safe place, to higher ground.

The chickens are wet (blowing rain) but I’ve placed *most* of the chicken pens where the land should be the driest. There are a couple pens where the water is pretty deep but they are all adult chickens that are on roosts. I’ll move them when it gets daylight.

The folks on the lower-lying properties will have been flooded out overnight. I hope everybody evacuated in time.

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Since It Is Summer Vacation

Some parents need a little summer refresher course.

I believe I could teach those classes.

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Obama Wants ALL Your Celebration Cash!

Now, who in the world really thinks this is a good idea? Were they on bath salts?

Register with Obama 2012

Got a special milestone or event coming up?

Instead of another gift card you’ll forget to use, ask your friends and family for something that will go a little further: a donation to Obama for America. Register your next celebration—whether it’s a birthday, bar or bat mitzvah, wedding, or anniversary—with the Obama campaign. It’s a great way to show your support for a cause that’s important to you on your big day.

You would think that Obama is desperate for donations by the way he’s out trying to steal birthday presents from children but, to the contrary, he’s raking in hundreds of millions of dollars.

Just another way for idiots to self identify, I suppose.

I suppose next they’ll be suggesting that you euthanize your furry friends and send in all that extra money that you’ll be saving from purchasing pet food and vet visits to the Obama campaign.

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Service at Lowe’s on Lenox Versus Home Depot on Lane

SwampMan decided that the screen door on the porch needed new hinges after rescreening. He promptly went to his computer and looked at the store websites to see which Home Depot or Lowes carried them in the store. Home Depot’s website said that they were a special order item. Lowe’s website said that they were in stock at the store on Lenox Avenue in Jacksonville. Well, Lenox Ave. is out of our way, but it was the closest one listed. We sucked it up that a closer store didn’t have what we wanted and drove over.

Upon arriving at the store, I immediately went to the customer service desk to confirm that they were in stock because some online websites are a little behind on listing things. SwampMan’s knees (which need replacing) were giving him a lot of pain that day, and he had to walk with the assistance of a cane. Instead of wandering around the store and not finding the hinges, I wanted to make sure they were in stock. I handed over the item numbers for the hinges in brass, white, and bronze, because we didn’t care WHAT color it was as long as we could fix the screen door.

“Yes, we have all those items!” the person at customer service assured us after checking her computer. “You can find them on aisle 2.” Thanking her for her help, we went to aisle 2. We walked up and down aisle 2 quickly, scanning for the items, then slowly. No screen door hinges. The guy who worked the area was making keys. We went shopping for other items and returned. The guy who worked the area was still making keys. We walked up and down the aisles again for ten minutes. Well, I walked. SwampMan painfully limped. The guy who worked the area was still making keys.

“I’ve gotta sit down!” SwampMan announced. “My knees are killing me! You keep looking, I’ll wait for this guy to finish with the keys.”

Twenty five minutes later, I was checking the item numbers of each package on the shelf along with the overstock when SwampMan called me from the end of the aisle.

“They don’t have the hinges!” he said.

“Whaddaya mean, they don’t have them? I just confirmed up front that they are in stock and, in fact, they have 12 hinges. We only need one or, if it is in a different color than the other hinge, two.”

“The man looked at them and said they didn’t have any.”

“I have been on the aisle the entire time and didn’t see him confirm shit. Did he get up and go down another aisle? Were they out of stock on that other aisle?”

“Nope. He didn’t move. He just glanced in my hand and said ‘We don’t carry those’.”

I suppose we were ugly, but if the man couldn’t be bothered for a $2.00 hinge, we certainly couldn’t be bothered to take our shopping cart through the checkout line, so we left it behind. After waiting for that long, I want somebody to at least pretend like they wanted to help me.

I inquired again about Home Depot, but SwampMan repeated that they didn’t carry it in the store but, to humor me, we went there anyway. SwampMan stomped through the door as swiftly as possible and accosted a man on top of a ladder stocking things entirely unrelated to hardware.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but which direction would the hinges like this be?” he asked the guy, expecting him to point in the right direction.

“I’ll take you right to them, sir!” was the courteous response. He quickly led us to the hinges that, per the company website, were not supposed to be in the store. “Can I help you find anything else?” he asked. We assured him that we needed no further help, and he hastened back to his department. Wow!

I went back to get a cart, and we continued our shopping to pick up the home repair materials that we needed. Home Depot got @ $300 of our money that day because of screen door hinges and courteous employees. Lowe’s got nothin’.

Oh, I’ll get over bein’ aggravated at the store on Lenox, I know. I don’t hold a grudge for longer than about five years. SwampMan, now, he’ll hold a grudge for a LONG time.

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I’m Booooooored!

Dylan came to me after second breakfast and told me “I’m sooooo booooored!” which is code for “Jacob gets to do all the really cool things like mowing grass on the riding mower and shooting the shotgun with Papa and I don’t get to because they say I’m too little and being too little sucks!”

“Hmmmmmmm,” I say. “What do you think would make your boredom better?”

“I think watching SpongeBob would be better!” he says helpfully. Sorry, kid. This is a SpongeBob free zone today and maybe for life, but I feel your pain.

“I have a better idea!” I say. “Do you like to paint?”

“Like painting pictures of sharks and dinosaurs and trucks?”


“Yeah, that would be fun. Where’s the paper?”

“Well, I don’t have any paper, but I do have a porch. My walls need painting! And I would just LOVE to have sharks and dinosaurs and chickens and trucks all over it.”

Well, my walls really do need painting! I figured maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to get the breakfast dishes finished and the lunch started before I needed to come up with a new project, like planting seeds or repotting plants.

Well, THAT respite didn’t last but about 60 seconds. The plaintive call of “MEEEEEEMAW” came drifting down the hallway.

“What is it?” I replied. “I need a paper towel…I didn’t mean to spill it.” He didn’t need to spill Yoohoo over my computer last night, either, as I recall.

“Are you standing on my carpet with painty feet?”

“Uhhhhhh…..I don’t think so!”

*sigh* That carpet is really going to have to be replaced. But maybe not just yet. I’m sure the summer will have way more paint, blood, fish guts, etc., in store for the carpet.

So, I replaced his paint, the porch floor has a bright blue blotch (it needed repainting, too!) and instructed him to stay on the porch. I went back to attempting to fill the dishwasher. For about one plate.

“Meeeemaw!” said Jacob. “Could I paint, too?”

“Yes, honey, let me get you a palette (a foam plate) and a brush!” No sooner had I loaded Jacob down with paint than Dylan was empty. When I had Dylan’s paint reloaded, Jacob’s was empty. Papa by this time had made it onto the porch to sit in my rocking chair and admire their work.

“I don’t think we need to paint over this at all! I LIKE it!” he declared, which is very weird. The porch is white, which is Papa’s favorite wall color. I wanted to paint the porch in a beach scene with blue sky, palm trees, and ocean waves which, as you can probably imagine, is a point of discord in our marital harmony. To find out that he preferred porch walls that looked as though they were covered in graffitti by elementary school gang bangers was a little disconcerting.

“Look Meemaw! I wrote in Chinese on the door!”

Heh. Well, I thought I might be able to finish the dishes, then the phone rang so that my former DIL could tell me that my oldest granddaughter is probably going to need surgery. And then the boys came back inside for candy. Then SwampMan came back inside to explain to me why the screen door is not yet fixed and that it will require a trip to the hardware store. “And how come lunch isn’t ready yet?”

That dull thudding sound you can probably hear from there is my head banging against the wall.

Maybe I can get the breakfast dishes finished while they argue about who is the biggest Justin Bieber fan and who is going to get Justin Bieber dolls and who is going to get Bratz dolls for Christmas.

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