Paula Deen in my front yard eating a lobster tail!

We'll get to that title a bit later. It sounds like a great new exclamation for a Hillbilly, doesn't it? Kind of like, "Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!" Or it reminds you of 'Clue'. "Colonel Mustard in the parlor with a candlestick."

In other news, the guilting of Mabel has now ended. Mabel brought her graduation gown (and Ivory's gown, too) to my room this morning to hang in its rightful place: the cabinet de la Hillbilly Mom. I don't know if that's the right usage of 'de la', but I thought it sounded good. Funny thing...Mabel did that without having read the Mabel post yet. But listen to this! After reading it, Mabel showed up at the faculty meeting with an entire bag of candy for my sleeve. Sweet Gummi Mary! I don't know about that...I think it might make a giant bulge.

I spent the afternoon loading up the remnants from my Everything Must Go Grand Extravaganza at Lower Basementia. Then I had my #1 son stack about 300 books on top of my cabinets in my future only building. He kind of put them close to the edge. I hope Mabel doesn't open the door for her gown, and get cracked in the head. Oh, well. She could sleep for a while with tweeting birdies and stars circling her noggin. After all, she has a gown.

This was the last day for the kids. I treated my class to a movie with popcorn and soda. Hey! Some of them even said, "Thank you, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom." There was a bit of a problem with one class. I suppose that 12-pack of Mountain Holler made them feisty. I had to send for one to come back and pick up his popcorn crumbs from the chair and floor. Oh, and the next hour, we kept hearing an odd noise. I reached the root of the mystery when I opened the refrigerator to get out my lunch. The bottom of it was full of water. Seems somebody had turned the control to '1' instead of '5'. It could have been an honest mistake. Except for reminding me how old I am every day, and trying to nomad it about the room, they have never waged war with me all year. So I assume it was somebody taking out a soda, and his hand hit the controller. That's the way it spins.

And speaking of 'Look what the cat dragged in...', I have something to share with you. No, it's not a movie, popcorn, and soda. Don't get so excited. Technically, I suppose we were not really talking about what the cat dragged in. But this morning, after I backed out of the garage, and before I went up the driveway, I spied Ol' Chewy Ann, the Chewingest Dog, munching something out under the cedar tree. I did what any curious Hillbilly would do: I drove through the yard to get a better look. She was lying down, pulling something up off a curved, segmented-looking thingy. Ann looked just like Paula Deen eating a lobster tail. If Paula didn't dip the lobster in butter, and didn't use a fancy fork, but just leaned over and ripped out some lobster with her teeth, and if she didn't sit on a chair at a table, but instead lay on the ground in a little dust patch where she had worn away the grass by turning round and round to lie down there every day, and if she was a bit slimmer, and took on the shape of a black german shepherd/lab mix. Yeah. Just like Paula Deen eating a lobster tail.

Guess what! It wasn't a lobster tail! It was the shell of an armadillo! Who knew? Those critters are traipsing farther north every year, by cracky. OOOOOH! It must be global warming. The sky is falling, the sky is falling! Never let it be said that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom doesn't have an Emergency Broadcast System warning in place. Please get under your desks in an orderly fashion, and clasp your hands behind your neck.

I hear that pieces of the sky are quite heavy.

OK, I have to tell you that I know Mabel really meant for me to OPEN the package of candy before putting a few pieces in my sleeve. And it wasn't 300 books. It was 99. And the last time I checked, the sky wasn't falling. Rainbows hold up the sky, you know. Rainbows. Nature's trusses. Yes, I had to tell you that. Not only am I Even Steven, I am Honest Abe as well.