Weekend At the Mansion

News flash from Redneckland. I lost my paycheck this morning.
Yes, Mabel, I know mine is but a mere pittance compared to a
master teacher such as yourself. But it is half a month's pay! And
I LOST it. I had it in my purse, along with the deposit slip and my
jury duty pay. I was off to the bank to deposit them, and then on
to make the payment on the mansion. Yes, I leave the top of my
purse unzipped. I had the checks when I left the house. I stopped
on the porch to pet the puppies, who we've discovered are not
really puppies, but poopies. They did not get near my checks. I
learned a valuable lesson on putting my purse down on the porch,
because last spring one of the cats took a bite off the corner of
my check.

I had them when I went behind the large SUV to close the hatch
that #1 son had left open after depositing his new bowling ball.
His $83 bowling ball. I set it on the bumper only for a minute.

I had them when I got into the large SUV and put my purse on
the console thingy between the seats. We drove for about 20
minutes to get to the bank. I did not roll down the windows, or
drive like a NASCAR competitor. #1 got the cell phone from
the outside pocket of my purse to call his dad and his grandma
so I could give them instructions on how to live their lives today.

I DID NOT have the checks when I reached for them when I
was the next car in line at the bank drive-through. (Redneck
Diva, it was a real bank, not a trailer, and it had two lines open
AND a commercial line.) Of course, there was only one teller
to run all three lines, but that kind of takes the wind out of the
sails I am putting on airs with. I panicked. The deposit slip was
there, but the two checks were gone! I pulled on through the
line and around through the alley to the Freewill Baptist Church
parking lot. No, I wasn't going to pray. I was meeting my
Hillbilly Mama to dump off #1 to go printer/scanner/copier
shopping with her. She needs the help of an expert. She asked
him if it would come with its fluids, or if she would have to buy
them separate. We think she meant ink cartridges.

Anyhoo, I was mentally retracing my steps, and calculating
whether we had enough to still make the mansion payment if I
didn't deposit my check. Yes. I am not the main breadwinner of
this dysfunctional family, which I am sure you have guessed by
now. My HMama was working up a good panic with me, since
A) she was probably afraid she might have to loan me money,
and B) this is the woman who saves Ranch Dressing for four
years and washes out baggies and tears Select-A-Size paper
towels in half. Oh, the horror!

Then I turned to put a recycled Wal-mart sack of snacks she
gave me for #2 son on the back seat, and there they were!
My checks were behind my seat, on the floor under #2 son's
dangling feet. Whew! That meant baby could get a new pair
of Wal-mart shoes today, and I wouldn't have to paint his feet
gray and his ankles white.

Not much to report from the mansion this weekend. Nope. Not
much going on here ON THE PLACE. I hate that expression, you
know. #2 son had a fever and a dry cough last night. I dosed him up
with Tylenol Cough and Fever, and sent him off to bed. He is still
coughing this morning. I hope he doesn't have the flu. I REALLY
hope he doesn't have the bird flu. Since he hasn't travelled out of the
U.S., I suppose he's not at risk.

My Hillbilly Husband, on the other hand, has a cough and wheezing
and a very sore throat with two white-looking bubbly sore thingies
on the back of his throat. I know...can I pick an appealing mate, or
what? He had one bubble-thingy when he went to Mississippi, and
I told him to go to the doctor first. Did he? Does Hillbilly Mom
make a long story short? NOOOOO! This morning he went to a
clinic near work, and they did a rapid strep test, but it was negative.
That's good news, since he's been hacking and breathing on me.
He got some cough medicine and antibiotic, though I don't know
what the antibiotic is for if he doesn't have strep.

I am not well, myself. No, it's not mental, so don't say "Ha ha,
we knew HM had something wrong in the head!" I cut my finger
shaving this morning. No, I'm not some missing link bigfoot
creature who has to shave her fingers. No, it wasn't naughty
bits. I was shaving my right underarm area, and my left hand
happened to get in the way. I sliced down through part of the
fingernail. Say it: "EEEEEEEE!" Yes, it smarts...a little flap of
fingernail, just enough to get caught on my coat pocket when
I reached for the phone while paying for a Yugioh GX Duel
Academy game for Gameboy Advance in Wal-mart electronics
because they wouldn't let me take it up front to pay for it with
all my other hillbilly goods. It is on my BAD finger, according
to #2 son.

I forget how much I use my left hand until I hurt it in some way.
Though I am right-handed, I can write with both. Apparently
I answer the phone with the left. And dip my famous Chex Mix
out of the one tin I had left from Christmas. Which is OH, SO
NOT RECOMMENDED when you have a cut in the middle
of your fingernail on your bad finger. Now the salty goodness
of the Chex Mix is salty badness to my bad finger's innards.

Which reminds me of another complaint I have about my poor
Hillbilly Mama. She told me the other day that a plumber was
coming to put new innards in her toilets. That is just wrong,
people! She is not Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies. She
does not cook up a pot of vittles in a cast-iron cauldron out
by the cement pond, or save leftover fat from the hog she's
never butchered to make lye soap, or the head of it to make
some head cheese. I have never heard her say innards in her life.
Yet in this conversation, it was 'innards this', and 'innards that'.
I don't know what is going on with her. Yes, her toilets are
from 1970, and need new arms and new balls and new stop-
cocks, or whatever toilet thingies are called. But they are not
called 'innards'. I would wager a few Sonic Cherry Diet Cokes
on that.

And that, people, with all its bad syntax and sentence fragments,
is my Saturday so far. I will keep you updated on any new
developments. Y'all don't have to worry your OH SO PRETTY
heads about that.