Tuesday, June 30, 2009

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?"

Sunday, June 28, 2009

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...

Friday, June 26, 2009

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?"

Thursday, June 25, 2009

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.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

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?


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!

Monday, June 22, 2009

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!


Saturday, June 20, 2009

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!

Friday, June 19, 2009

Men And Their Chainsaws...Part III

And so it began.

The neighbor nodded at Dad and hopped up onto one end of the big Oak. He pulled once, twice, three times, and finally, the damn thing belched to life. The neighbor lined his saw up at the widest part of the fallen tree and began to slowly eat his way through the massive trunk. He kept looking at Dad, waiting on him to get started. As he reached the deepest part of the log his arms began to strain from the exertion of pushing the saw through. Sweat started to stain his overalls and beads of perspiration began to drip off the brim of his cap. The chainsaw began to whine, to sputter, to spit, until at last, it just stopped.

Dad chuckled to himself, hopped up to where the neighbor had been sawing, pulled the string, and that new chainsaw roared to life. Dad pulled the brim of his hat low, chucked his cigarette towards the swollen creek, set himself and started to saw.

Dad finished the cut that the neighbor had started and began to work his way up the log. From time to time you could see him glance at the neighbor who was struggling mightily to restart his saw which didn't seem to be cooperating. Finally, in exasperation, he threw up his hands in defeat and asked my father if he wanted to take a break.

"Nah, that's all right," he said, "I'm just getting warmed up."

As I look back on this memory with amusement, it was amazing just how prophetic Dad's statement was. Once he started to use that chainsaw, he never stopped. He cut everything. He trimmed all the limbs on the trees that surrounded the house. All of the wood from the Oak tree was sawed in perfectly measured lengths so they would fit precisely in the wood stove.

Within a year's time, he had run out of things to saw, and the chainsaw was laid to rest. It was no longer needed, almost forgotten; in fact, Dad never used the saw again, until he moved to Georgia...

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Men And Their Chainsaws...Part II

...trees across the road, trees down in the yard. It was like a tornado had come through. It wasn't that long after the storm had passed when you could hear the roar and the whine of the chainsaws as neighbors up and down the road got to work clearing a path.

Dad wasn't one to be outdone by the Dotson's so he grabbed up Brother, the chainsaw, and a couple of axes and headed towards the road. Never one to be left behind, I decided to tag along.

The destruction that this storm had caused was amazing. Big, bold, and majestic trees had fallen victim to Mother Nature. I'm not talking about the Scrub Pines that are so prevalent where I live now; I'm talking about Maples, Poplars, Elms, and sadly, the big Oak tree in front of the barn. Strong, sturdy trees that were toppled like matchsticks.

I started to follow Dad onto the road when I was quickly told to get my butt back up in the yard. This was no place for a kid and I was just going to be in the way. The road had begun to fill with the volunteers from the local fire department checking to make sure everyone was okay. Some power lines had fallen across one part of the road and traffic was being diverted around it.

The major concern was the big Oak tree; there was no way to go around it. You would end up in the ditch if you went one way or in the creek (which was flooded) if you went the other way.

Gentlemen, start your chainsaws!

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Men And Their Chainsaws...Part I

Growing up on the farm on Cherry Fork Road was a lot of fun. I've mentioned before that we raised tobacco, had a HUGE garden, dabbled in the hog business and had a few cows and chickens. We had a tractor, a wagon, and a manure spreader as well as various lawn mowers, rototillers and chainsaws.

Give a man a chainsaw and it's like giving candy to a fat kid. They don't know when to stop.

My dad loved his chainsaw. I don't remember what the name brand was but it was yellow and matched his pickup truck. Throw in a Kool cigarette dangling out of his mouth and a John Deere hat perched on his hat and he was ready to do some sawin'.

One of the stories he used to tell was how he cut fence posts with his brother for about 30 cents a day. They didn't have a chainsaw back then, they used an eight foot blade saw with a brother on each end.

When it came time to do smaller logs, they would switch from saw to axe. My dad could swing a mean axe, his brother, not so much. In fact, the story goes that my uncle was swinging the axe and the blade flew off and cut my dad's little finger off. I'm not sure which pinkie it was because he had both of them cut off at different times. But that's a different story.

Anyhow, I remember the year my father got his new chainsaw. It was Father's Day, 1974, and let me tell you, that saw was needed. A late spring thunderstorm had blown through and there were trees everywhere...

Friday, June 12, 2009

I Already Made The Switch

I hope they don't give you procrastinators anymore time. I mentioned this back in February and have listened to more than enough advertisements telling me and the entire world to switch to DTV.

If you haven't switched then I guess you won't be watching any more TV.

Don't come complaining to me and don't call the TV stations griping because your set ain't working anymore!

You've had years to get this done!

No switch! No television!

Rabbit ears, no converter box! No television!

The trouble IS in your set!

Seriously, I hope you made the switch! I wouldn't want you to miss any of your favorite shows.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

What's For Dinner?

We like to eat in my family and we all happen to be big eaters. Somewhere along the way it has become a tradition that when you are having a good meal without the family members you send them a message via telepathy, phone, text or snail mail.

The message must state what you are having and the phrase, "I'm eating good".

If you've had a good meal and didn't send out the messages all conversations will begin with, "What'd you have to eat?" when next you are in the company of a family member. That's just how we roll in the MA Fat Woman's family.

Recently, I had picked up a ribeye steak at Krogritz on sale and fixed myself up a right nice meal. I sent Mom a text message letting her know what I was having and that I was eating good. Normally, she responds back and I was a little surprised when she didn't. No big deal.

A few days later I had whipped up another nice meal and had just set down to eat when the phone buzzed that I had a message. "What's for dinner?" Mom asked.

I had made cubed steak and gravy, mashed potatoes, grilled corn on the cob, chocolate dipped strawberries and fresh squeezed lemonade. I put all of this in the text and hit the send button.

You know what her response was? "You're kidding? Why didn't you tell me you was eating good?"

That made me laugh so hard I nearly spit my corn out and 'bout choked on a lemon seed.

...I'm eating good Mom.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

My First Tomato

What is that?

That is my first tomato of the year with a big bad spot on the side of it.

This tomato is about the size of a golf ball. The larger it grows, the larger the bad place gets.

I'm tempted to pick it now and toss it out. Maybe, a new tomato will grow in its place.

My first tomato of the season and it's already rotten before it reaches puberty.

It figures!

Monday, June 8, 2009


When I was growing up back in the 70s our family reunions were usually held in the area where my mom was raised. The area is located in northwestern Ohio south of Toledo.

I really enjoyed visiting the area because I usually got to stay at my cousin's house. They had the coolest house around. They had a volleyball court set up in their side yard where all the neighbors would come and hang out. The house was also located near the lake about a block from the beach and the nearby snack bar that was only open during the summer. How cool was that?

My cousins usually had a camper set up in the yard too for all of the relatives that seemed to show up only for the reunion. It was jam packed-kids everywhere. We had a blast.

One of my earliest memories of the family reunion is planted firmly in my brain. We were making plans for that last needed run to the local grocery store before the reunion and my little cousin was very excited. It seemed that he loved going to the grocery store and he usually ended up getting a treat of some kind.

"Goin' to Krogritz!"

"Goin' to Krogritz!"

"When we goin' to Krogritz?"

He was running and jumping up and down wanting to know when we were going to Krogritz. I remember looking blankly at my mom and asking what is Krogritz?

She told me that Krogritz is actually Krogers. My cousin had called it Krogritz from the first time that he had learned to talk.

And it stuck. To this day my entire family calls Krogers, Krogritz!

Don't ask me why?

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Desperately Seeking Sodium

I'm on a low salt diet!

Is there anything worse? Yeah, I'm a little pudgy in some places and in other spaces I'm built like a brick sh*t house. (Whatever that means?) I have a tendency to swell in all the wrong places and don't drink enough water.

I don't think I use that much salt anyway. It's not like I carry a salt shaker around in my purse (not that I carry a purse, always gets in the way) or I got one of those salt blocks out in the back yard. I don't have Mortons on speed dial.

The doctor told me that I should avoid anything that has added sodium on the label.

Have you checked a label for the sodium content lately? Everything has salt in it, including the Diet Coke that I love to drink.

The doctor told me I should go au naturale and eat foods that are uncooked and unpreserved. Eat lots of vegetables like onions, kale, spinach and cabbage. Cauliflower, broccoli and rutabagas are also natural foods that are good for you. I told the guy that I didn't like any of those vegetables but I really liked potatoes.

They are a good source of fiber but the best way to eat them without adding any salt would be to eat them steamed advised my doctor.

So, that's my new food staple! Steamed potatoes! Not mashed with garlic and butter. Not baked with butter and sour cream. Not parslied. Not fried. Not boiled and browned. Not mashed with brown gravy. Not au gratin. Not scalloped.

Plain, steamed potatoes and no Diet Coke!


Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Blogaversary-The Best Of The Best

It's hard to believe that's it been a year since I started Reflections on a Middle-Aged Fat Woman. Over the past year Reflections has grown from a one paragraph post about my visit to the doctor into stories of my farm life as a girl, tales of hospital visits, unfortunate mishaps at the drive through and the silly things that can happen in everyday life.

One of my readers has told me that the main reason they like coming to visit the MA Fat Woman is they never quite know what to expect, and usually, get a laugh in return. Personally, I think that is the highest compliment that can be paid to a writer, and for that, I'm grateful.

I've spent a few weeks deciding what 'My Blogaversary Post' would be about and finally realized that I couldn't make up my mind. (Isn't that just like a woman?)

So, I went back over the past year and reread some of the stories and decided that I would choose the stories that I liked the best and had the most fun writing. I've included the link for each post so you can go back and check it out for yourself.

The Best of the Best in no particular order:

1. Is It Broccoli?

2. Letting The Worms Go

3. Mi Costenita

4. Sleigh Riding On Cherry Fork Road

5. Tater Salad

6. Holiday Conversations

7. O' Christmas Tree

8. The Couch Strikes Back

9. Forgive Me Father...It Just Slipped Out

10. Back Room Banter

11. My Left Nostril

12. A Trip Of A Lifetime

13. Anything Goes At Red Lobster...Parts I & II

14. Fire On Cherry Fork Road

15. Seens At the Airport

There you have it! Thanks, for stopping by, and stay tuned, hopefully there's more laughs to come!

MA Fat Woman

Monday, June 1, 2009

Wet Hair

There's not too many things that gross me out. Having had a big brother my whole life and a family that appreciates bathroom humor there isn't much that makes me go ewww!

However, I can't stand cleaning wet hair. It doesn't matter if it is a hair from my head, hair from the cat, an eyelash, any yes, even a pubic hair. I don't like to deal with them.

They stick to everything.

You can't sweep them up.

You can't wipe them up because then they stick to your cleaning rag.

I use a blow dryer to dry my hair and it gets all over the bathroom. Hairs everywhere.

I've starting trimming my own hair since I don't trust Ms. Shaky Hands to cut my hair any longer. It makes an awful mess.

I don't mind scrubbing the toilet. I don't even mind cleaning up the splatter that sometimes accumulates under the seat. But, if I see an errant hair, it just about makes me throw up.

What grosses you out?


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