It Ain't A Maytag...Part II

It took me three days to reach the local repairman. It seems he had been out of town over the weekend looking for Elvis. (He took his wife to Memphis and visited Graceland) I had tried a couple other places but they said they subcontracted their work to this fella. (He must be good.) We made an appointment for the next day anywhere between 9-noon. (It's a better window than what the cable people tell you.) He showed up right at 11 AM, just when I was getting ready to watch the View, and he got right to work. I had done some troubleshooting on my particular brand of washer and had pretty much figured out that the drive coupler had went kaput. It would run but the agitator wouldn't spin. Mike, the repairman, told me that he had once worked as a Maytag repairman. Of course, I wanted to know if he had ever met Harvey Korman who used to do those commercials. He hadn't but he hoped to one day. (I didn't want to break it to him that Harvey had passed away not to long ago.) He had determined that it was indeed the drive coupler that had went out and was a pretty easy fix if you knew what you were doing and remembered which parts went where. We were having a really nice conversation about his trip to see Elvis and how he had even had a peanut butter and banana sandwich at one of the local restaurants when he dropped a part down inside the washer. He was stretching this way, looking here, shining his flashlight there when he stopped suddenly and said, "Aha! I think I see it, but I'm not sure. You wouldn't mind holding the flashlight while I reach for it, would you?"

It Ain't A Maytag...Part I

My washer cut out on me the other day. For those of you that did/didn't understand what I just said reveals to me whether you live north/south of the sweet tea line. I'm feelin' right articulate today! Anyhow, there isn't much that annoys me more than when something breaks and you have to make the dreaded phone call to the repairman. What's your trip charge? How much for labor? What's a new one cost? Blah, blah, blah! I'm pretty handy but I don't think I want to wrestle with the washing machine. I got a friend that comes over sometimes and will help with some minor repairs. I usually end up standing around holding the flashlight. It's not just in my home either if I'm up at my mom's helping out I get to hold the flashlight there too. I don't know how it got to be that way. When I was little I could take the wheels off my bicycle, take the chain off, oil it up and put everything back together. What about the Vacuum? We had a Elecroloux canister vac that I could pretty much take apart and put back together with my eyes closed. I'm not like my dad in the fact that he would take something apart and mom would have to put it back together. I can always get it put back together, might not work, but it was back together...

Same Old Bathing Suit

I'll be on vacation for the next week down along the Gulf Coast. I'm still wearing last year's swimsuit so I thought I would let you revisit this story. Enjoy! Beachgoers beware!! The middle-aged fat woman is coming soon to a beach near you with a brand new bathing suit. Cover your children's eyes. What was that flash of white?(my pearly white skin) I don't care what anyone says, this year I'm going to the beach for a whole week and I am going to enjoy every minute of it. So I bought myself a new swimsuit. I didn't try it on 'cause I know what size I am. Plus, I don't like to use dressing rooms.(I always think someone is watching through those mirrors) And if you're at one of those big stores where the dressing room is out in the middle with no ceiling, they can look right down and check out your stuff.(Makes me shiver and cringe) I hate to admit it but I spent over $18.00 on my new swimsuit. Seems like an awful lot of money for a little piece of string. I picked out a nice brown jungle pattern that matched the splotchiness in my complexion and was the color of my new sandals. Once I got home I thought I would try it on and see how it looks. I began to remove all of the tags including the price tag,(paid too much) the security tag,(it only cost 18 bucks) the designer label,(yeah, right) and lastly, that other thing called a panty shield. (Gross) Ok, I'm ready to take that first step. One leg goes in, then the other. I begin to pull the one-piece upwards toward my hips and am met with a slight resistance.(Not a problem, happens all the time) I tug harder and up it snaps(OW). I insert each arm into the proper slot and begin to pull, stretch, twist and contort myself into my new suit. I begin to adjust everything and put it where it normally sags, but darn it, if the shoulder straps don't keep slipping off my shoulders.(I hate that) My chest is heaving, sweat is dripping off my brow, I think I might have pulled a muscle in my back trying to get the stupid thing on. Now, comes the moment of truth. I turn around and look in the full-length mirror to check myself out. My head turns to the left, then the right, I turn around and look at the back....I shake my head and say to myself, "Aren't you glad you bought the matching coverup?"

A Special Tribute

Thanks for your Music and the Moves. Thanks for the Laughs Thanks for your Beauty Sad times for all of us. You will be missed.

Size Matters

I've been pretty agreeable the last few months. Nothing has really gotten on my nerves too much, nothing really to complain about. I guess that's a good thing! Unfortunately, the good times never last. Do you know what set me off this time? Size! Everything I seem to purchase lately comes in a new and improved formula, costs twice as much, and comes in smaller containers. The first item to get under my skin is Reader's Digest magazine. I am a yearly subscriber and have been for several years. The stories are inspirational and I love reading its different humor categories. What I don't like is having to flip through page after page of advertising to find a story. And the edition I just got for July seemed like it was only half of what it should be. The next company that seems to be tinkering with its products a lot lately is the Coca Cola company. First, they have started with the new 18 pack that costs just as much as what a 24 pack does. What's up with that? Now, they have come out with a two pack product that is smaller than a two liter bottle but costs more than 2 two liters combined. Do they think we're not paying attention? The last thing that chaps the MA Fat Woman's ass is To Go containers. Have you noticed how small they have gotten? Heaven forbid if you want something to go other than what's wrapped in a piece of paper and then dropped in a bag. I brought a To Go container to my mom from a chicken joint one day and she accused me of eating half of hers. Ain't that something? (I had thought about it, but didn't.) I know it costs a lot to put out a magazine, and keep the world supplied with Cokes. They say America is overweight, so maybe, that's why they have reduced the sizes of the To Go containers. But, at some point in the near future, consumers are going to reconsider that size does matter, and they will stop purchasing your products!

Mother, Daughter Conversations

I decided to call my mom since it had been over a week since we had spoken and this is the following conversation that took place: Mom: Hello? Me: Hey, whatcha doing? Mom: Watching a movie. Me: Which one? Mom: I think it's called the Mentalist or something. Me: That's not a movie, it's a television show. Did you lose my number? Mom: I've been busy. And you know the phone works both ways, young lady. And don't you get smart with me either. I got my bedroom cleaned up and the rest of the yard sale stuff put away. Plus, I've been baby sitting and carrying your brother back and forth to the doctor. What have you been doing? Me: Nothing, I was sick most of the week. Had to take the cat to the vet because he wasn't feeling well. Mom: How can you tell? He just lays around all the time anyway. I swear, whoever heard of an entire family having the same disease, right down to the cat. What was wrong with you? Me: Well, I think it was my kidneys, might have been my back. I had a sore throat, I was sweaty, had a sinus-like condition and I was grumpy. Mom: Phhhfft! There ain't nothing wrong with you and you've been grouchy your whole life. You're just having more of those hot flashes again, aren't you? You know, when I went through the change, I had everything you just described and it lasted about 15 years. You didn't hear me complaining, did you? I had you three kids, your father, and a full time job. Take an aspirin, and get a fan or two, you'll be all right. You should've called me, I would have told you what was wrong. Me: ...but, Mom? Mom: I gotta go, call me later! Click!

Men And Their Chainsaws...Part IV

...and he took the chainsaw with him. Dad never really used the saw that much in his first couple of years in Georgia; there really hadn't been a need for it. That is, until the late winter blizzard hit in 1988. It was like a northern snowstorm, almost 21 inches of snow fell in North Georgia. And to make matters worse, it started to thaw quickly and then froze again, and then everything was covered in a sheet of ice. That's when limbs started cracking, and branches started snapping, and before you knew it, any tree that was within 15 feet of a power line toppled to the ground. No lights. No furnace. No stove. No nothing. It didn't take long once things had settled down before the locals started to work on all of those fallen trees. Dad had gotten the old yellow chainsaw out of the storage building and it cranked on the first try. Dad was able to cut his way down the driveway and cut the limbs away from the power lines so the electric company could begin to restore the power to the area. The saw was now over 14 years old and it worked like a top. After that, I'm not really sure what happened to the saw, it just faded from memory. Until a few weeks ago. Mom had been having a yard sale and was cleaning out the shed when she came across a familiar object. It was the old saw and it seemed in pretty good condition, so she put it in the yard sale to sell. It was late on Saturday evening and we had begun to put the things away that hadn't sold. An older gentleman in a beat up Chevy pickup pulled up in the driveway and asked if he could look around. We said sure and stopped what we were doing and watched the old guy browse what we still had left out. I didn't think he was interested in anything until he noticed the yellow chainsaw. My goodness...his eyes lit up, he picked up the saw, turned it this way and turned it that way. "What'cha want for this old saw?" he asked. "I had one just like it for over 35 years and it just cut out on me recently. It was the best dang saw I ever had." I looked over at Mom not exactly sure what she was going to say. "My husband loved that saw, we got that for him on Father's Day back in '74. I'll tell you what, since it's so close to Father's Day, I'll let you have it for free on one condition." "What's that?" he asked. "Use it," Mom said. "Yes, Ma'am," he said. And with that he pulled his hat down low over his eyes, lit himself a cigarette, and gave that cord a yank... Happy Father's Day!