I Am Honored Just To Be Nominated...

Toot, toot...beep beep! No, I am not having a Donna Summer
Bad Girls disco flashback. That was last week. I am tooting my
own horn. Get it? Toot, toot...beep beep! Yeah, I know. I AM
hilarious. That's what keeps you coming back. That, and my
hillbilly wisdom.

I am tooting (not to be confused with the farting kind of tooting)
because I have been nominated for Blog of the Week over at
A Mischief of Magpies. Go figure! And go vote. The last time
I was in a contest, a Grilled Cheese Sandwich got more votes
than me. Even after Big Blogger felt sorry for me, and gave me
the sandwich's votes, the new entry of A Sheep on a Unicycle
was beating me for a while. Thank goodness I finished ahead
of that sheep in the end. I guess it's a good thing my blog buddies
voted for me, and not a pack of hillbilly fellas. They might have
preferred that sheep. But I was still a loser. That was back on
my old Redneck Review blog. Now that I am much more
sophisticated, perhaps I shall have a chance. Nawwww! But
check it out anyway. Don't cost nuthin'.

Anyhoo, this is shameless self-promotion. I'll take your vote, and
maybe I'll even call you in the morning. But you know how it is...
my Hillbilly Mama has been sick, so I have to take care of her, and
then I have to give my puppies a bath, because the vet said 'They
could really use a bath', and then I have to get my husband ready
for his business trip to Mississippi. No offense, DeadpanAnn, but
Mississippi ain't no Brazil, that's for sure.

This holiday has worn me out. Saturday was the Chuck E. Cheese/
St. Anthony's ER extravaganza. Sunday was a day of rest. This
morning, I planned to do the shopping and the laundry and clean
up the house (just a little bit). Plans at the Hillbilly Mansion rarely
go as planned.

At 10:00, my Hillbilly Mama called, saying she didn't feel well, and
that her blood pressure and heart rate were up. I told her I was on
my way to town, and I'd come get her to take her to the doctor or
hospital. She called back saying she had an 11:15 appointment if
she could get there on time. By now it was 10:20, and it takes me
25 minutes to get to her house, and 20 minutes to get to the doctor.
I rounded up the kids to take them over to the barn, since my
Hillbilly Husband was working on his 1980 Olds Toronado, putting
in a new fuel pump and compressor and water pump. This is the
car my sister-the-mayor's-wife calls the Pimpmobile. It is copper-
colored, with spoke wheels. I could leave #1 son in the house alone,
or #2 son, but not both, because WWIII might break out.

I dashed to town to find my HMama standing at the end of her
driveway waiting for me. She said she'd only been there for a
minute. We hustled over to the doctor's office, and she signed in
at 11:10. Yes, Hillbilly Mom can drive a mean SUV when the
pressure is on. After giving her insurance info, my HMama said,
"The lady ahead of me was also named Gertrude (*not her actual
name*). I'll have to be careful when they call the name, not to just
jump up." Of course, one minute later, the nurse came out and
called "Gertrude." That other woman grabbed her walker, the lady
with her gathered up her stuff, and they went in. My HMama said,
"I guess they meant her. She was here first." She also asked me if I
would go in with her, which surprised me, but I agreed. I don't like
to think of her getting old and needing someone else to advise her
what to do. A couple minutes later the nurse came back, and again
said, "Gertrude."

We went in. The nurse wanted to weigh her. She said, "Do we
have to? This isn't my regular appointment." The nurse looked
at her kind of funny, and said, "OK. Come on this way." She
put us in an exam room. My HMama can't keep quiet. She is
a talker. She said, "We were afraid we might jump up when
you called that other Gertrude." The nurse looked funny. She
looked at the chart. "Ooohhhh...are you here because of your
blood pressure?" My HMama nodded. "Well, I asked that
other lady, 'Has your blood pressure been up a little bit? Is
your heart racing?' and she said, 'No, not really' and looked
at me funny. I guess I meant to call you, and she came in."

Later, a tech came in to hook up an EKG. Techie said, "I talk too
much when I'm nervous, but I have this story to tell. Last week,
I hooked up a 78-year-old woman for an EKG. I was a little bit
surprised. Her breasts did not sag. They sat up and poked out.
I was amazed. I went home and looked in the mirror, and said,
'Girls, you need to get with the program. I saw a 78-year-old
woman who looks better than you'. Then I came in the next day,
and I overheard the other nurses say something about her. They
said she'd had breast augmentation." My HMama said, "Oh, back
when when she was young?" And the tech said, "In 1997." Man!
That means a 69-year-old woman had breast augmentation. What
was she thinking? Though I am sure Mr. Huggies would not see
anything odd about this, and would most likely put a picture of her
on his blog, if I had a picture of her, because even 78-year-old
pr0n is still pr0n, right Huggies? Not that there's anything wrong
with that.

So, my HMama was normal for her blood pressure and heart rate
at the doctor's office, but he is putting her on a beta blocker and
has scheduled a stress test for her on Thursday. I hope she doesn't
worry about it. I depend on her a lot to help out with my boy
young 'uns, picking them up from school if I have meetings, taking
them to the doctor, keeping them if I have a teacher's work day...
I told her I don't want to run her around so much, but she said
that is what keeps her going, that since my dad died 8 years ago,
the next best thing to having him around is having the kids around.
She has always had excellent health, and I am optimistic that she
will come out of this OK. We are kind of fond of the ol' gal here
at the Hillbilly Mansion.