Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Chicken Heads, Birthaversaries, D loves my gumbo and writer's block...
There’s nothing in the world that infuriates me more than to see able bodied adults with children who are unemployed and living off of my tax dollars; tax dollars that will not be available to support me when I retire after working for 30 years – tax dollars that I gladly paid because I knew that one day I’d basically get them back in the form of Medicare and Social Security.
There they are, those lazy and selfish folks, all excited about the first of the month with their food stamps and welfare checks, punching in their status updates on facebook by using their iPhone. But their grubby little kids are doing without and wearing hand me down clothes. I’m so mad I could spit nails.
I could, if I wanted to, sit at home and draw a check every month based on the status of my health. But, I don’t. I want more than what a disability check would afford me every month. I want my children to have more than what a disability check would afford them every month.
Does anyone remember that song “Chicken Head” or, what’s that other one? Oh…”First of the Month”… Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m thinking here….
*deep breath* moving on…
Don and I completely enjoyed our anniversary/his birthday. Yeah, same day...cool huh?
You know what we did? Pretty much, we did a whole lot of nothing. We were tired Friday night so we stopped at a Walgreens and bought a deck of cards. Then, we went back to the house where we were staying and sat in the middle of the bed playing rummy.
For the record, he completely sucks at rummy. Even when he went out, I won. Just sayin’….
Around midnight we decided we’d go out to have a cigarette. I was only wearing a t-shirt, so I wrapped a small throw around my waist and out to the front porch we went. No problem right?
Wrong! Someone managed to lock the front door!
In the middle of the night, in Hot Springs, I am sitting on a front porch in a strange neighborhood across from Oaklawn, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a throw that barely managed to cover my wide load. The keys were in the house and the truck was locked. All communication devices were in the house. I looked at my husband and contemplated tossing the throw and tackling him in the yard for locking us out; But it was cold, as in the wind chill was closer to 35, and I wasn’t about to come out from under that blanket. Besides, his skinny butt can outrun my not skinny butt.
Instead, while he went around the house looking for a window that wasn’t painted shut, I sat on the porch and waited. Well, most of the time I sat there and waited. When a car came down the street I’d wrap that throw around tight and run to hide behind a bush at the corner of the house. I was also contemplating whether or not to go across the street and ask Shirley Q. Liquor if I could use her phone to have someone come get me.
Finally, I hear a thud, immediately followed by a couple of softer thumps from inside the house. Which later, I would find out that Don apparently didn’t know the bed in front of the window in the back bedroom was only a slightly blown up air mattress. There was no cushion for his bony behind to land on when he propelled himself four feet off the ground and into an open window.
I’d have paid to watch that…
I completely enjoyed spending time with my oldest boy last night. It was even better when he called me out to the porch alone so we could talk about some more important things going on in his life. I’ve missed that part of our relationship. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it.
I’ll have to lure him over with my homemade gumbo more often.
For weeks now I’ve been staring at the cursor flashing on my Tressie story and haven’t been able to write a single line. I have the beginning and I have the end; I just can’t seem to pull the middle together. I’m at a loss and I’m beginning to get frustrated. I don’t have the patience to sit around and wait for the proverbial light bulb to go on. I have notes, and notes, and even more notes and I can’t manage to mold them into something that makes sense.
Anyone want pages of notes and a word document to finish writing a story?