Sunday, May 11, 2008


It has been an uneventful Mother's Day here at the Mansion. I raked it in better than my birthday bounty of a $2.00 coin purse and a box of Sno*Caps. The Pony made me a calendar with a lime green cover and a logo for the democratic party, which included all the family birthdays with little pictures for each holiday. The Pony also made me a card, and the #1 son gave me a card and some lottery tickets. HH gave me a selection of chocolate cheesecake, which he reported was 'over in the BARn'. I think they are bringing it to the house tonight.

I am down in the back. That does not mean I am outside somewhere. It means that I hurt my back. It's my mom's expression. Oh, and I gave her a lovely card and a bronze-colored dress-up watch, and a plate of HH's barbecue. Plus I gave her a laugh about Hillary's alleged racist faux pas concerning the 'hardworking white people'. "How dare she!" I said. "I hear that those coal miners just lol around the mine all day swilling soda...and when they come out, they aren't even white." She's an easy audience, my mom.

But getting back to ME...I think I must have hurt my back yesterday with the laundry. It might have been from reaching down into the deep, deep cavity of the new washer we had to buy several months ago. I was against it, but it was the best of the small selection at the shop, and we needed it right then. I am sure that Amy Roloff would never be able to use such a washer. Even if she used a Roloff stool to look down into it, she would fall in trying to fish a bright shiny penny out of the bottom. Not to mention those socks that cling to the side. Or it could have been when I twisted to toss the wet clothes into the dryer, which HH separated from the washer with a plastic laundry sink which I do not use and did not want and told him so numerous times but the day he went out to work on the Mansion laundry room he installed it anyway and told me after the fact and then acted all pissy when I told him I never wanted it like that and that it would make doing the laundry much harder for me. Or it could have been when I sat in the recliner reaching into the wicker clothes basket with only one handle that my mom bought one year at Silver Dollar City and decided that she didn't really need as I folded the boys' clothing so they could complain about putting it away like they ever have to lift a finger around here to do any chores except take out the trash and put away their socks and underwear.

It's also possible that my back went kaput when I fell asleep in the downstairs recliner from 12:30 a.m. until 3:30 a.m. last night. In any case, I felt a spasm when I arose from the errr...throne, shall we say...this morning when I awoke. Pushing a cart around The Devil's Playground did not make it feel any better. So I bought the cheapest antidote money can buy, which is called 'Thera-gesic', and cautions users to 'apply in thin layers' and not to allow the stuff to come in contact with anything but skin, such as mucous membranes and clothing and the like, and to wash it off right after application, and to wash hands thoroughly. Which I thought I did, but apparently I had some left on my finger after three scrubbings with soap, and used that finger to scratch under my nose, which set my upper lip ablaze for about 20 minutes. The back? Not so much. Not as much heat as I would have liked, and not as long-lasting. Though it did beat Ben-Gay washable liniment in both categories.

I think I'm getting old.


DPA said...

Look at you-- a race joke AND a midget reference in one post! I didn't hear about Hillary's slip, but it doesn't surprise me that she got slammed for saying something positive about white people. How dare she. Damn racist! Besides, everyone knows that only hispanics are hardworking!

That rub on hot cream stuff sets my hardworking white skin ablaze. Once when I was still a young thing, I had played in a 2 day softball tournament and was very, very sore. My mother rubbed me down with Ben Gay. Before she even got done putting it on, I was on fire. Five seconds later I was in the shower with cold water running, screaming and begging for mercy while she tried her hardest to rub it off with a wash cloth. Once we got it all off, I was still burning and crying, so she gave me some Benadryl.

You know, as I think back on the many times my mom gave me Benadryl, I can't help but realize that I was usually whining about something when she gave it to me. And I'm really sensitive to things that make you sleepy, so it knocks me out. I think Mom was just trying to put me out of her misery.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Well, now. Aren't you just a regular Chatty Cathy? I can tell you're not all hopped up on Benadryl right now.

Benadryl even puts ME to sleep, about 2 hours after I take it. I've only taken it a handful of times, as recommended by my doctor for sinus drainage. Ain't that a pretty image?

To borrow a line from one of my favorite movies, the old Robby Benson film 'One on One'..."You must have blood like pure Rocky Mountain spring water." Or something like that, when sweet, sweet Robby was all hopped up on some pillish stimulant his roomie gave him to 'play better' at practice. Of course, all I could think about was that 'Rocky Mountain Spring Water' became an advertising gimmick for Coors.