I was at a buffet last Sunday for lunch. I don't particularly care for buffets, but I live in Kilgore, so....
While I was getting my fried rice, this little girl was waiting behind me. When finished, I stepped away and moved to the other side of the island. As, I was getting some Lo Mein, I witnessed this child spoon rice onto her plate then proceed to pick out the peas and carrots (with her dirty little girl fingers!!) and throw them back into the serving basin. I was horrified. I considered telling her to stop, but people are funny about having their children corrected by strangers and I didn't want to have a run in with anybody at that buffet. Trust me, this child couldn't have been raised by any sane, non-violent, respectable person. Instead of saying something, I just gave her the most disapproving look I could muster. She reciprocated with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it smirk and walked off. I wanted to smack her. But, I just thanked the Lord I had already gotten my fried rice and told my family to avoid that particular dish. I'm sure there are all kinds of cooties crawling around buffets. I think I will permanently remove them from my list of dining options. They just freak me out. Where's the quality control?
Friday, July 20, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
Three-day weekend, sort of
I contracted a demon stomach virus last week – so not by choice I checked out at 3:30 Thursday. I never got sick in the “classic sense” one thinks of when a stomach bug is involved, and for that I am most grateful, though I still begged my mother to give me intravenous drugs of some kind to knock me out. My skin hurt, my stomach hurt, and it sucked. I was awakened at 3 a.m. Friday to the sound of frogs outside my bedroom window. I sat up and listened, listened some more, then realized the sound was not coming from my amphibian friends. It was coming from my stomach. Something dark and unnatural was going on in my intestines, and I was dripping buckets of sweat, so I reached over and reset the alarm to 7:30, just in time to call in sick, or if I happened to be cured within the next five hours, call in to say I would be really late. I stayed home. There are some things you just don’t screw around with, and the risk of, well, I stayed home.
Ordinarily I love couch time. I had couch time on Friday. About 3:00 my brain was tired of couch time, though, but I didn’t feel well enough to walk around and do anything about it. I hadn’t had much to eat because everything my lips touched sent debilitating pain ripping through my abdomen. (Side note: The guy who brought the virus to work, quit on Friday. Chicken. He knew what was coming.) So, I just remained on the couch, in pain, I went to bed, in pain, and I woke up Saturday morning, in pain. But, to alleviate said pain, I went to the boardwalk in Shreveport with the parents, Rebekah and my Aunt Sheri and Uncle Larry. We rounded out the day by going to visit Sheri’s parents. Her mother is awesome. For those of you who think Texas is crazy, you should spend some time in Louisiana. They’re a breed apart, must be the gumbo. Her mom has been in a wheelchair for several years, I’m not sure why, but she is just the sweetest lady. So, we’re all sitting out on the porch and I mentioned the concealed handgun license class and the conversation briefly turned to firearms.
Sheri said, “I’d like to take a class and get that license.”
“Yeah, me, too” I replied. “But. I have to get a semi-automatic first, because - ”
“Oh, I want one of those, like my mama has,” said Sheri, as she pointed to her mother pulling a small pouch out of her wheelchair pocket.
I surveyed the pouch and considered the possible contents - manicure kit? Nope. Collapsible .22.
That’s freakin’ cool. You might think an older lady, confined to a wheelchair, alone during the day in a rural area would be vulnerable to hoodlums and such. Not this lady – she’s shot at people before and she’ll do it again. She also said if she had to shoot someone in the street, she would, then she’d drag them into her front yard and claim the blood trail was arterial spray. She probably has rope in that wheelchair pocket just for the purpose of a wheelchair body tow.
I’m considering writing a blog, shoot I could probably write a whole book, on things you only see and hear in the South. This story would make the cut, as would this observation: Why do people down here use Confederate flags as window treatments?
Ordinarily I love couch time. I had couch time on Friday. About 3:00 my brain was tired of couch time, though, but I didn’t feel well enough to walk around and do anything about it. I hadn’t had much to eat because everything my lips touched sent debilitating pain ripping through my abdomen. (Side note: The guy who brought the virus to work, quit on Friday. Chicken. He knew what was coming.) So, I just remained on the couch, in pain, I went to bed, in pain, and I woke up Saturday morning, in pain. But, to alleviate said pain, I went to the boardwalk in Shreveport with the parents, Rebekah and my Aunt Sheri and Uncle Larry. We rounded out the day by going to visit Sheri’s parents. Her mother is awesome. For those of you who think Texas is crazy, you should spend some time in Louisiana. They’re a breed apart, must be the gumbo. Her mom has been in a wheelchair for several years, I’m not sure why, but she is just the sweetest lady. So, we’re all sitting out on the porch and I mentioned the concealed handgun license class and the conversation briefly turned to firearms.
Sheri said, “I’d like to take a class and get that license.”
“Yeah, me, too” I replied. “But. I have to get a semi-automatic first, because - ”
“Oh, I want one of those, like my mama has,” said Sheri, as she pointed to her mother pulling a small pouch out of her wheelchair pocket.
I surveyed the pouch and considered the possible contents - manicure kit? Nope. Collapsible .22.
That’s freakin’ cool. You might think an older lady, confined to a wheelchair, alone during the day in a rural area would be vulnerable to hoodlums and such. Not this lady – she’s shot at people before and she’ll do it again. She also said if she had to shoot someone in the street, she would, then she’d drag them into her front yard and claim the blood trail was arterial spray. She probably has rope in that wheelchair pocket just for the purpose of a wheelchair body tow.
I’m considering writing a blog, shoot I could probably write a whole book, on things you only see and hear in the South. This story would make the cut, as would this observation: Why do people down here use Confederate flags as window treatments?
Friday, July 6, 2007
Rain and whimsical livestock
I live near a miniature donkey farm (save it!). When I drove past it during this morning's drenching, tree-up-rooting downpour, the fields where the donkeys graze (or do what miniature donkeys do) was an OCEAN! I have been worried about those donkeys all day. Did they drown? Can miniature donkeys swim? (Hahaha, there's a mental image for you: miniature donkeys swimming!! Hold on. Let me compose myself.)
The barn was also flooded, along with the house - where are the donkeys???
I sometimes forget that not all of you live in Texas, but if you don't live under a rock and you can at least hear, see and/or read, you know Texas has had a rough, rather wet time of it these past 44 days - hmmmmm, that's eerily biblical...
I woke up at 3:30 this morning, after having a dream I had swallowed a mango whole (that's for another post), to the sound of rain beating on the roof. I knew it was bad news. I stayed awake thinking of how I might have to drive our bass boat to work. I waited to feel the house break away and begin to float. That didn't happen, but I turned on the news at 5 a.m. and found out my area in particular was averaging two inches of rain per hour, and it had been raining (that I knew of) for at least two hours. That's a ridiculous amount of water, and I already live on a lake. "The rains came down and the floods came up (repeat)" has been stuck in my head all day. Oh, and brace yourselves, Longview has (gasp) cancelled the "Great East Texas Balloon Race." My life is forever changed.
The trip to Arkansas was fun. Andee and I arrived safely. The trip wasn't nearly long enough, but at least we got to play in the mountains a little. Rebekah and I got along so well. She was like my BFF all weekend. Things are back to normal now, however.
The barn was also flooded, along with the house - where are the donkeys???
I sometimes forget that not all of you live in Texas, but if you don't live under a rock and you can at least hear, see and/or read, you know Texas has had a rough, rather wet time of it these past 44 days - hmmmmm, that's eerily biblical...
I woke up at 3:30 this morning, after having a dream I had swallowed a mango whole (that's for another post), to the sound of rain beating on the roof. I knew it was bad news. I stayed awake thinking of how I might have to drive our bass boat to work. I waited to feel the house break away and begin to float. That didn't happen, but I turned on the news at 5 a.m. and found out my area in particular was averaging two inches of rain per hour, and it had been raining (that I knew of) for at least two hours. That's a ridiculous amount of water, and I already live on a lake. "The rains came down and the floods came up (repeat)" has been stuck in my head all day. Oh, and brace yourselves, Longview has (gasp) cancelled the "Great East Texas Balloon Race." My life is forever changed.
The trip to Arkansas was fun. Andee and I arrived safely. The trip wasn't nearly long enough, but at least we got to play in the mountains a little. Rebekah and I got along so well. She was like my BFF all weekend. Things are back to normal now, however.
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