At least I didn't do this....

Is it wrong to appreciate roadkill?

So I found this one morning while I was taking Junior to school.

I realize this probably makes me a total asshat in a lot of folks eyes and I'm ok with that.  There's LOTS of reasons I piss people off.  But this guy, he was a great leave!  Those stiff zombie arms that break so gently at the wrists, mouth agape and he's flat on his back. He's in such good shape, I do wonder if he wandered out into the middle of the road, saw a car coming and had a "HOLY SHIT!  CAR!!" squirrel heart-attack and just keeled over right there on the spot.

This is a very high-traffic road with no shoulder and morning school traffic is no place to be assing around.  Also, I was driving my mom's car and the driver's window doesn't roll up and down, only down.  I was very disappointed to know I had to drive away from Squirrely, undocumented.  As I drove away I hoped he would still be there when I came back 10 hours later, but I wasn't going to hold my breath.

As luck would have it, Mother of The Year (yes, me!) forgot it was her snack day for Junior's kindergarten class.  The thought of depriving 23 five-year olds of $18 worth of applesauce, pretzels and juice boxes about tore me out of the frame and I feared for their teachers' safety.  Thankfully I remembered this just before my lunch hour so I made a frantic call to the school's front desk to alert them I'd be RIGHT THERE with some snacks.  SNACK-A-GAWEA to the rescue!!

When I pulled off the highway, I tore around the corner on two wheels and I noticed Squirrely was still there, in tact!  I doubt the Other Moms were driving around Squirrely to admire him but more worried about getting fur in their tires.  Either way, thank you Other Moms!!

Adrenaline pumping from the power walk to deliver snacks straight to the classroom (which, from the main entrance, is the very last freaking class room in the entire building) I managed to get back out on to road to zero traffic.  Remember, there's no shoulder and the window doesn't work.  So I scooch far over in the lane without dropping mom's car into the boggy ditch and get out of the car and start snapping photos.  I'm taking my last photo when I see a logging pickup come around the corner and the look on his face confirms what he's thinking....

What in the hell is this woman doing in the middle of the road taking pictures of a dead squirrel!?

I gave Pickup Man a friendly little wave as he passed by me and he gave me that really confused smile/wave combo.  And if one witness wasn't enough, his buddy driving the tractor/lowboy behind him gave me the funny look too.

Timing is everything and I'm glad to be water cooler fodder because when I did come back thru that afternoon, Squirrely was gone.

Well, I do declare!

de·clare

 verb \di-ˈkler\

de·claredde·clar·ing

Definition of DECLARE

transitive verb

1

: to make known formally, officially, or explicitly

2

obsolete : to make clear

• I still live in the small town I attended high school, as do a lot of my former classmates.  
• I graduated in 1989 and if I'm doing the maths right, that was twenty-two years ago.  
• We are all pushing or have achieved 40 years upon this Earth.  (Suck it Fake Rapture!)
• I have pushed two kids out of my body, ladies - you know what that does to your brain.

I had to make a run to The Walmart (small town rule #1:  stores are always proceeded by "The") yesterday after work and picking up Junior.  I only needed chicken bog supplies (chicken quarters, rice, sausage, celery, onions) so I checked out in the 20 items or less Express Lane.

The man in line before me was buying two tomatoes.  Junior and I were discussing God Knows What (conversations with him change every five seconds) when the man in front of me joined in and starts talking to me like he knows me.  After noticing the logo on his shirt (a vendor we use at work) I asked, "Do I know you?" (see also what having kids does to your brain)

This short, bald, Fu Man Chu-ed man with blue eyes says to me in an almost accusatory tone, "Well you should, you went to West Brunswick High School."

*blink*  *blink*

This is the part where I remember A) I'm in The Walmart, B) I'm toting a nearly six-year old with me, and  C) Even though I can hear the sweet sound of 10 pounds of chicken smacking upon that shiny bald head, Madea is NOT my middle name, so I casually wave him off, "Oh, I don't remember much about high school."  And that is very true, I can remember my fellow band nerds, folks who were nice to me and folks who were not so nice to me but NO, I can not remember every single person who attended school while I was there.

Twenty-two years later I am still fat, I still sport long brown curly hair, I still have beautiful buck teeth and I still have big boobs.  Thanks to Mary Kay skin care lessons and good mustache grooming, I am a very close representation of the 1989 me with slightly smaller hair and better makeup.  


I can guaran-damn-tee you that if I locate my 1989 year book I will not find one single photo of a short, bald, Fu Man Chu-ed man with blue eyes.  Why the hell am I expected to recognize you immediately, on the spot in The Damn Walmart twenty-two years later?


So hear me now Everyone I Went to High School With:  I don't give a shit about high school anymore.


But if you would like to say, "Hey, you look familiar, did we go to high school together?" I would LOVE to kill 20 minutes with you in the greeting card section down at The Walmart!

Sometimes

Sometimes I buy things because they are on sale and he likes them.

Sometimes I cook things for him and include those sale items he likes.

And sometimes, when I'm in that happy morning spot and the warm coffee hits my belleh, I remember...

...sometimes those favorites have side effects.  And I will secretly laugh to myself and hope the jalapeños come out a little hotter than when they went in.

BUT, only sometimes.

Doing it for the flowers

Sometimes I feel bad for my downstairs neighbor.  I'm wearing my wedge shoes today and my feets are a bit on the stompy side.  I know the noise up here can be loud from time to time.  I was the downstairs neighbor for a good five years and during that time a guy who ran on a treadmill lived upstairs.

I think about how my neighbor, who shows absolutely no physical signs of being handicapped or have limited walking abilities, refuses to park in the 30 or so available spaces on the asphalt.  He parks in the freaking GARDEN under the magnolia tree.  Every.  Single.  Day.  Because that 10' walk to you door is a wicked killer, amirite?

I pray for rain each day he is here (doesn't work very hard, only here about 25% of the time - not a very successful business model if you ask me).  The garden area is low-lying and collects a ton of water when the sky leaks.  He even DROVE OVER the patch of bell flower things that despite being driven over all winter, still emerged when awakened by spring.  While the damn things are in bloom!

When fat girl decides to wear cute, strappy wedges to work it actually sounds like BIG FOOT is answering the phones up here.  And she does NOT want you tiptoeing or driving on the mf-ing tulips!!!

It's Thursday! That's the new Friday!!

My hours got cut at work again.  I lose the equivalent of one paycheck a month, it's absolutely horrid.  Know what pisses me off even more than that?  When we stick to the new budget, we still get all the bills paid.  Some of it is the hubs ability to work an hour or six of overtime at least once a month, but most of it is just bad money management.  One of these days I'm going to grow the hell up and start feeding the damn pig on a regular basis.

Elder Spawn showed up out of the blue last week.  He received his quarterly "injun money" and hopped on a flight home!  After spending a REAL winter with lots of snow in Missouri and Kansas I highly suspect he visited mostly for the weather and he was not disappointed, it was absolutely gorgeous!  I'm really proud of him, he managed his time wisely and everyone was glad to see him.  He even did HOMEWORK on his vacation!  I swear every time he says Calculus I want to puke, that's some scary math!

We had a nice family dinner at Nana & Mr. Grandpa's Sunday afternoon and I got to cook for him Thursday night.  He requested beef and hominy soup and frybread.  I'm pretty sure I'm the world's worst Native American but I do have some mad frybread skills.  Check this one out, it looks like a chicken, ready for the roasting pan!

I got some new clothes!  I've been trying to lose a few lbs and with the money being tight I was terrified of buying new pants.  I don't think $25 worth of jeans would break our bank but I just couldn't make the buy.  What if my butt started getting bigger?  Can't we put that $25 on the Home Depot card so I can maybe paint the freakin' house?  I thought about going to the second hand stores but I have plenty of faded jeans and I wanted some dark blue denim in the worst way.  And I came about my new clothes IN the worst way:  hand-me-downs from a deceased girlfriend.

I received clothes like this once before when Lee Anne died.  Not a lot, but some nice pieces for work and some hang around clothes.  When Betty died, her widower just couldn't bare the thought of trashing her clothes and he wanted to see someone truly use them.  Our butts and boobs are/were the same size and he asked me to go through them and take what I wanted/needed.

It has been weirdly comforting to wear her clothes.  I miss Betty like crazy, we all do.  I'm going to start cleaning her house tomorrow and I'm pretty sure I won't need any water, there will be plenty of tears.

15.21

Math, I hates eeet!

Necessary evil that it is, math proves that if my cycles continue at their current rate of 24 days I'll have 15 periods this year.

I'm totally having a Quinceañera for my uterus this December.

(I thought this was a trick coffee cup but it's actually a vase.)